Dreams and Wonders
by Jean11089
Summary: The world is ever changing and to survive you have to change with it. But not all changes are easy, or all that expected if one is really honest with themselves. Of course, it's a lot easier to live in an ever-changing world when you have someone at your side willing to help you along the way. Maybe you'll find something more as well. Mature for a reason.
1. Chapter 1: You've Been Asleep, Cap

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. My first foray into fanfiction outside of Harry Potter and I pick Avengers; more specifically, Romanogers because they are my headcanon and there's nothing you can do to take it away from me. Also I've always wanted to explore Steve and Natasha's interactions with the other Avengers/S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, so expect to see a few of them around quite often.

2\. This story will likely follow events between movies aside from specific moments that I feel are important or powerful enough for the characters to include. Who knows, I may go further into the movies but we'll see, it's all a matter of time.

3\. Some of the following dialogue and scenes are taken from the end of Captain America: The First Avenger, of which I own nothing.

4\. As always, let me know what you think.

 **Chapter One: You've Been Asleep, Cap**

The gentle breeze that sent a tingle across Steve's skin was the first thing he noticed. It was familiar but surprising considering the last thing he remembered… A shiver sped through his body at the memory but Steve resisted reacting to it as he lay still on the bed. His eyelids were heavy until he eased himself further from his slumber and opened his eyes to gaze upon the stark white paint of the ceiling above him. Even before he sat up he could tell something was off. The low hum of the radio as it announced a baseball game registered only just on his senses until he took in his situation.

Steve was alone in the room, nothing and no-one was around him and more often than not even military hospitals had at the very least two people to a room. Secondly, there were no get well gifts, even for the one and only "Captain America"; and there were no signs of other life in the room, no sign that anyone he cared about had visited or had waited patiently nearby for him to wake up. No scent of Peggy's perfume or the musky, ale-touched scent of the Howling Commandos, nor the expensive aftershave Howard wore so often. His depression in the bed rebounded easily from his absence, so he couldn't have been in this place overlong. That's when a terrifying thought hit him.

 _How long has it been?_

Steve glanced around again, the light wind caught his attention once more but something about it felt out of place, as if it was from a fan in a building rather than a natural breezel. The sounds of the city reached him but the view out of the window was static, unmoving. He shifted only just and the perspective altered in a way he recognize all too well, given he himself was an artist. The radio overpowered that conclusion with an announced play that shouldn't be possible…

 _Because I was at that Dodgers game…_ He glanced at the radio, it's sleek corners polished and its speaker in fine tune. _And that radio's too fucking nice to be in a hospital, let alone left in a room with a single occupant._

Before he had time to react to that conclusion he heard footsteps, steps that were oddly hollow for being in the hallway of a hospital. In fact, he no longer felt he was in a hospital, but he wouldn't let that on to whoever was coming. The concerned confusion written on his face was natural, as was the curiosity that entered his gaze as he tracked the red-haired woman's entrance into his current residence.

Her shoes, heels, were not out of place for some nurses, though less professional. The stockings were right and regulation, though the pencil skirt was being worn fairly conservatively for a woman in those heels. Then it all changed. Her tie was too wide, a man's tie, though the knot was a neat regulation windsor. Had she had a liaison and gotten ties mixed up? No, especially not with her lingerie misbehaving like that, just this side of visible beneath her blouse. This dame had no idea the experience he had with women, or at least their senses of fashion.

He knew something was off about her long before he got to her hair, and he knew for a fact that should have been pulled back more neatly for a nurse in a recovery ward, especially for a professional woman like her. Some allowances could be made for women in Peggy's position, but not for a dame like her in a hospital like this place was supposed to make him believe he was. So there were options, a few actually, and not a one of them even remotely good.

"Good morning," she began before she checked her watch. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"Where am I?" Steve asked calmly, watching for any further sign of deception.

"You're in a recovery room in New York city."

A calculated reply, slower delivery as if she wanted to give him time to process what he asked and how she answered. All it did was give him time to further confirm his suspicions about her, and about this fake room where he was being kept. He glanced over his shoulder, studying the area for escape routes while he could until he asked his question again.

"Where am I, really?"

The subtle turn of her lips, the slightest hesitation. Yes, something was rotten in the state of "New York" and he was going to find out what.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The game," he began sternly. "It's from May 1941 I know 'cause I was there." The blank look that settled across her features settled everything for Steve. He rose from his bed and began to prowl forward, his size intimidating the woman even as her fingers toyed with something in her left hand as he spoke once more. "I'm not going to ask you again. Where am I?"

" _Captain Rogers_ -"

"Who are you?!"

The door burst open with two men in black clothing unlike anything Steve had ever seen, maybe some kind of altered version of body armor like what Howard showed him when making his uniform. S.H.I.E.L.D. was spelled out across their chests but there intention was to keep him in place, to force him to stay put. They were about to find out that no matter what they did, they wouldn't keep him from getting out of wherever the hell this was.

He let them make the first move, let them try to reach him, push him, try to corner him so they could put him back in the bed, where he noticed straps now dangled beneath the mattress. Steve smacked their hands away and grabbed their throats with a swiftness they couldn't hope to match. With all of his strength, Steve heaved the pair of men at the wall and watched as it crumbled beneath them and tore the room asunder. It opened up the room to a stage unlike any he had scene before as he followed the two men out so he could avoid the woman. No need for collateral damage, not if it could be helped.

The woman called out after him but he ignored it, ignored everything but what his surroundings could provide him. He needed information, knowledge he couldn't get any other way but by sneaking it out of their pockets, or taking it by brute force. With the woman's voice now blaring over speakers throughout the strange looking hallway he entered that was littered with more strangely dressed people, brute force was the flavor of the moment. He stiff-armed anyone that got in his path. A simple shove from him was far more than enough to bruise their skin, their ribs, and knock the wind and fight out of them so he could move forward. For all he knew he was sparing enemy combatants, or they could be innocent, but in either case they were in his goddamn way.

The world outside those windows was now his target, escape was the name of the game because information could wait. He rushed out of the building, bowled over anyone in his path and bolted out the doors. He paused only a moment to check the streets before he realized he was within blocks of Time Square. Steve put everything into his mad dash through the streets as cars passed him, beeped at him. Everyone looking curiously at him as if he was some sideshow attraction. Dare he think it, he even saw a camera flash from something in a person's hand as he passed the cars when they reached a stoplight.

He sprang across the streets as quickly as he could, the lights, and sounds an overload of sensation as he reached the center of this monumental place in New York City. He was home, but it wasn't any kind of home he remembered. Signs flashed everywhere, accompanied by such a cacophony of noise he didn't know how anyone could even stand to be in this place. Colors clashed, signs flashed and changed and movedwithout any sign of a projector anywhere. This was not the New York he knew and loved, this was not anything like he had expected.

 _Where am I?!_ He cried out in his mind as he turned about again and again. _How long was I in the ice for the world to change this much?!_

"At ease, soldier!"

Steve turned to see a black man in a long coat with an eyepatch, apparently he was the one in charge of just about everyone that surrounded him. Vicious scars surrounded the covered eye but despite that the man before him was still fairly handsome and stood regal, powerful, composed in the face of everything around him as he advanced deliberately on Steve. Guns and batons had been drawn by the agents. Large black vehicles blocked every path of escape, or so they thought, with a host of armed guards ready to keep him contained.

"Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there but…" the man began in a kind, almost understanding voice, a voice Steve was sure more than a few dames had swooned over. "We thought it would be best to break it to you slowly."

" _Break what?_ " Steve urged the man

"You've been asleep, Cap," the man said gently, with a hint of true respect in his voice as he spoke Steve's title. "For almost seventy years."

 _Seventy years…_ It was a punch to the gut not even the Red Skull could match. The soldier looked for any sign of deception and found none, and could only look to his surroundings to confirm what he heard, what he now feared really was true. As the truth sunk in, as the enormity of the situation struck him, he realized something that stabbed deep into his heart and twisted the knife.

 _They're dead… Colonel Phillips, Howard, Peggy, Dugan, Gabe, Monty, Jim, Jacques... They're all dead by now and if any of them are alive I doubt they're… Oh god... No… Please..._ Steve looked around, desperate for an answer to his prayers, desperate for knowledge on what happened to his friends before another thought hit him. He had been in the ice three days before he'd succumbed to sleep, before he let the water take him, freeze him, chill him to the bone and take him away from everything he once knew. He had prayed for a rescue to come in time for…

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," he lied as if it was the most natural thing in the world, all in attempt to hide the pain and despair he's feeling, even if he wore the pain more clearly than he intended. "Yeah I just…" the pain twisted in his gut again. "I had a date…"

There was a brief pause before the black man spoke up again. "With Peggy Carter, at the Stork Club at 8 o'clock…"

"Yeah… How did you-" Steve caught himself and shook his head. It was history to these people, no doubt his love life was well known amongst the well informed. "Nevermind, everybody probably knows that story these days."

"Only her closest friends and proteges," the man answered as he held out his hand. Steve took it slowly, testing the man's grip and he received a smile for the strong grip they both had on one another. "Colonel Nicholas J. Fury, current Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. an organization formed by Howard Stark and Peggy Carter to continue the work of the S.S.R. and accomplish the goal you left for them. When I took office, Peggy and I spoke often, discussed damn near anything that came to mind, even you."

"That's… That's good…" Steve began slowly as his breathing finally began to calm as he looked at the colonel, a knot in his chest that dared try and clog his throat. "Is she alive?"

Fury offered what was a small, comforting smile at best. "She lives in a nursing home in D.C. I'll take you to her myself if that's what you want after we get you properly checked out and brought up to speed."

"Right…" Steve nearly whispered as he looked around Time Square briefly before his eyes settled on the colonel, still uncertain if any of what he was hearing was true. "I hope you're telling the truth, Colonel Fury, for all our sakes."

"Hey, after what you've been through Cap, you deserve the truth, no matter how much it might hurt any of us," Nick agreed easily. "Come on, you'll ride with me."

"Couldn't we just, walk back?" Steve asked a little incredulously. "I didn't run that far."

"Oh we could," Fury spoke with an almost sarcastic drawl and a cynically amused grin. "That is, if you wanted every slack-jawed man, woman and child that recognizes your photograph from the past seventy years to stop you on our way there."

Steve held back a grimace, the facade on his features perfect as he let a wry smile twitch at his lips. Almost a year acting as the government's posterboy and a further three years of stealth and undercover operations had been good for something. "Good point, Colonel. Let's just… get out of here."

Nick nodded lightly and led Steve into one of the suv's. As soon as they were securely inside, and seat-belts were better explained to Steve, they were on their way. Steve's gaze lingered outside, studying the world and everything about it. So much had changed out there while he had remained encased in ice, eternal, young, strong and utterly goddamn useless. The world had gone on without him, and no doubt so had his closest friends. He wasn't sure what was worse; that he'd woken up to find them almost all dead, or that they had gone on for god knows how long never knowing if he was truly dead or not.

"Colonel-"

"Call me Fury, or Nick if you're feeling particularly familiar, Cap," the director said as he examine the super-soldier next to him.

"...Steve." The pair offered equally wry grins before they settled more comfortably next to each-other, although Steve would be a fool if he didn't notice the colonel was prepared for anything, just like himself. "Nick, I have to ask, is anyone else alive?"

Nick sighed as he looked out to the streets before his gaze returned to Steve, as solemn as any agent had ever seen him. "Peggy's the only one left, Steve… and I'm not sure I'm the right one to tell you this, but she's got alzheimer's, dementia. It's affecting her memory and she's not in the greatest shape. She's got a few years left at best, but she can't get around much without a wheelchair… I'm sorry."

Steve swallowed down the knot in his throat. Peggy was alive but might not even recognize him and if she did her reaction would be heartbreaking at least… not that his heart already wasn't being shattered piece by piece in the last five minutes. Steve held strong though, even as he closed his eyes and let fragments of his emotions through he kept a tight lid on as much of it as he could as he looked back up at Nick Fury.

"If you have files on everyone from my past, Peggy and myself included, I'd like to see them."

Nick's eyebrow raised briefly, and that cynical smile returned to his face once again. "What makes you think we have files like that?"

"You wouldn't have put me through that little wake up call, or thawed me out of the ice for that matter, without compiling files on everyone that ever knew me, or was known to associate with me," Steve answered clearly and concisely, donning a bit more of his Captain America persona to gain control of himself, and a bit of the situation. "You would want to know everything there is to know about me before you ever even began to think about letting me out of my prison of ice. Tell me I'm wrong."

"No, you're not wrong," Nick said with some amusement. "Hell, I'm almost impressed you'd get to that point this quick after having a bomb like a seventy year sleep dropped on you."

The suv pulled into a parking space in the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility and the pair were let out. When they entered through the doors of an elevator they continued their conversation.

"I have a lot to learn if I'm to understand what I'm up against," answered the soldier as his gaze trained on Nick's more intently as he felt the elevator move up at a higher speed than the ones back in his time ever had. "Since I doubt you woke me up for a simple house call."

"We woke you up for a number of reasons," Nick answered vaguely as the doors opened. They stepped out into a hallway and the pair were watched by everyone they passed. Some looked on in awe, others in curiosity, and most couldn't refuse the whispers of gossip that Steve could hear clearly and remember just as easily as he focused on what Fury had to say next.

"One of which is the very fact that your revival is entirely accidental, Steve," the Director continued as he led Steve through the facility. Steve snorted in mirthless, cynical amusement, because nearly seventy years ago for them, and barely an hour ago to him, he had decided to let the icy waters claim him on a prayer he would either see Bucky and his parents in the afterlife, or to Peggy Carter next to his bedside in a red dress with a radio playing. "We thought you were dead, that you were just preserved in the ice until we could give you a proper hero's funeral. The President thought that we could finally lay you to rest in Arlington, in a place of honor among your comrades in arms and bring the Lost Captain back home to America. When your heart started beating and you began to set off machines and sensors all over the place as we thawed you out, we immediately set out to make sure you survived and were comfortable. Because if you did wake up, you wouldn't recognize the world you woke up to."

"I haven't, not really," Steve answered briefly after an understanding nod. "Waking up in New York… even if it's not my New York, was a nice touch. But you got the details wrong."

"Did we?"

The slightly cynical answer gave Steve only a second of pause. Fury was smart enough to catch onto the game quick, and he knew, or at least suspected, that Steve was now the same. His patient, calculating look told Steve all he needed to know. "It was a test, wasn't it?"

"The Lost Captain America is trapped in the ice of the Arctic Circle for nearly seventy years, and is found to still be alive after all of that time," Nick explained easily as he led Steve into what looked like private quarters. "You think we wouldn't check you out? Hell, for all we knew you would have been a vegetable or an amnesiac but your brain scans checked out. So I had to see if you were who people really said you were instead of some punk jock that got surrounded by real talent, or that it was all a big propaganda machine to help win the war. Turns out I owe at least one of my agents fifty bucks for doubting his assertions that you would live up to the legend."

"Fifty bucks?" Steve whispered with some incredulity. "You'd wager that much on whether or not I am who others said I was?"

"Fifty bucks isn't a whole lot of money, compared to when you were around, but it's still got some power to it," Nick explained as he gestured for Steve to take a seat in one of the armchairs.

The colonel offered him a drink with a gesture and Steve shook his head as he examined the room. It was a modern set up, white walls, fine lines, but comfortable black leather armchairs and couches. A large black screen was along one wall and Steve saw a few other doors leading in and out. If he had to guess, this was some sort of private apartment within the structure of the base. Of course, the kitchen nearby and the extensive liquor cabinet gave that away. A long mirror was along one wall and Steve tilted his head lightly.

"Seems I have a lot more to catch up on than I thought," Steve sighed as Fury turned on some mellow jazz music with just a voice command.

"Hopefully you'll readjust quickly; but I'm not going to lie, Steve, there's a lot you need to learn to keep up with current times, and things are always changing," Nick assured the soldier. "It's not going to be easy, and I won't lie, you may never fully adjust to our times."

"Yeah… I'll bet," Steve responded as he reached to his chest for a sign of comfort. His hand paused as it made contact with the shirt, and suddenly he realized something was missing, something integral, something he hadn't taken off since Erskine let him join the Project: Rebirth training. "Nick… Where are my tags?"

***Surveillance Room***

"Is this guy going to be anything like we think he's supposed to be?" a medium height, blonde haired man asked as he observed the screens in front of him. A bow laid on his back, along with a quiver of arrows he intended to use should things go extremely south. "I mean, he's been asleep for nearly seventy years and he was practically the Military version of a circus strongman. Is he really that special?"

"Barton, that man right there has more saved lives to his name than any single soldier in world history," a balding man in a black suit stated as he gazed almost reverently at the sleeping form of Captain Rogers. "Not to mention the fact that he has more confirmed kills to his name in two years of the war than you and Natasha combined throughout your careers without breaking a sweat, and that's only the official recorded number. He was called the greatest soldier of all time, to ever live, for a reason, and not just because he was strong or fast."

"Hey Coulson, I think your man crush is showing a little," Natasha teased him as she leaned against the counter and eyed the screens. Her red hair hid her reaction of seeing Captain America asleep from the others, but it was one of extreme interest. Her deadly red lips may have been poised in a mischievous smirk, but her eyes nearly glowed with curiosity as she watched the soldier sleep of the rest of his icy experience. Her presence caught the attention of the two men more closely, but neither could get a read on her. "Sure you aren't playing up the legend more than he should be?"

"I've already got a bet with Fury going on if Captain Rogers lives up to the legend," Coulson stated briefly with as little nerves as he could. "I just believe he's the kind of hero we need right now, and I happen to believe he will come out of sleep just fine."

"Only because you want him to sign your cards," Barton teased his handler with a nudge to the side. "I'm betting fifty bucks against him though. Tasha, Coulson, what do you think? How long 'til the Captain there figures out he's not in 1945 anymore and breaks out? I'm betting over five minutes."

"I give it three," Coulson put in as he set his money on the table and Clint did the same. "The Captain was known for his situational awareness and using it to his utmost advantage at every opportunity to win battle after battle."

Natasha rolled her eyes but concentrated on the images in front of her. Steve was slowly waking up but he seemed to take his time doing it. There was something hidden behind Steve's initial waking that she felt a kinship with, and her smirk was easily turned on barton. "Make it a hundred and I'll give you my bet."

"Done, easiest hundred I've ever made," Clint agreed, and Coulson nodded not long after as the three set all of their money on the counter. "So what's your bet?"

The widow's smirk reached her eyes as she looked at her partner and handler. "Somewhere in the neighborhood of forty-five seconds."

Clint let out a bellowing laugh as he leaned back in his seat. "Oh man, easiest money I've ever made! Damn, Tasha, you're never gonna live this one down. There's no fucking way Cap will-"

"Cut the chatter, I want to hear this," Coulson said as he turned up the volume. The conversation was slow, almost methodical, and the more Coulson watched the more in awe he felt.

Clint began to shake his head by the Captain's second question. "There's no way…"

"Clock's ticking, boys," Natasha drawled as she kept count of the seconds in her head. Within mere moments Captain America, the man, the myth, the legend, had figured out he wasn't where he should be and was breaking out. The moment Steve hit the outside doors she stopped the timer Coulson had and her eyes twinkled bright green. "Forty-five seconds exactly. I'll take that."

As Natasha swept up her winnings Clint couldn't hold it in any longer. "Oh come the fuck on! There's no fucking way… That son of a bitch had to go and cost me a hundred bucks and he hasn't even met me yet!"

Beside Natasha smirking, Coulson was radiating a happy grin as he managed the surveillance station and kept an eye on every image he could get of Captain America. Meanwhile, the femme fatale began to toy with a metal chain she had recently acquired around her neck. She gingerly pulled them out, avoiding setting off Clint's sensitive hearing aid and Coulson's own perceptive ears. She examined the tags in her hand, certainly not following regulation with the items that came with it. Two wedding rings with names inscribed on each, an engagement ring, two keys, and a cross adorned the chain along with Steve Rogers' very own dog tags. She examined each in detail, memorized his serial number and felt even more possessive of the item in her hands than she thought she could. For a brief, insane moment, she almost felt comforted by their presence.

With access to all agent comms, Coulson tapped into Fury's and everyone else's around Steve so he could hear their conversation. The three agents listened as Fury broke the news to Steve, and how the soldier responded with pain to learning everyone he knew was likely dead, and how he had missed a date with the woman of his 1945 dreams. Coulson shook his head in sympathetic sorrow, and Clint bowed his head low for a moment before he paid more attention to the conversation.

Natasha herself felt bad for the guy, but she knew there were no second chances, not unless Stark all of a sudden created a time machine that blew up the world in the process. All the Captain had left was the here and now, and he was being forced to deal with it. Unconsciously she began to run the tags and everything that came with them along the chain around her neck. She toyed with the tags, let them push away distracting thoughts as she focused on the talks between Nick and Steve.

" _Nick… Where are my tags?_ "

 _Took him long enough._ Natasha glanced to the other two in the control room and both had their eyes on the slightly jingling dog tags around her neck. Clint looked rather amused at the sight, while Coulson was actually hard to read. She couldn't tell if he was looking in reverence at the dog tags, or in upset astonishment that she had the audacity to take _Captain America's Dog Tags_.

" _They're not on you?_ " Nick's voice spoke curiously from over the speakers.

" _No, and if they're one of the few things I've got left to my name, I want them back…_ " Steve replied, his voice growing colder with each syllable. " _Now. And my shield as well if it's around anywhere._ "

" _I'll make sure they're returned to you asap, Captain,_ " Nick said as he directed a glare at one of the cameras. " _And whoever has them will face consequences._ "

" _I don't care who has them so long as I get them back,_ " Steve talked back briskly, his voice almost icy. " _I earned those tags and that shield. They belong to me. If you have anything else of mine around I'd appreciate having that back as well._ "

" _Don't worry, Cap, you'll get them back in a few moments if my guess is right. As for your other possessions, I"ll have some agents retrieve them from our archives here and bring them up._ "

"Ohhh now you went and did it, Romanoff," Clint teased her as he looked from her, to the tags, to the screen.

"What the hell were you thinking taking the Captain's dog tags?!" Coulson barked almost instantly as he rounded on the former soviet spy. "How could you?! We need to get those back to him now, Natasha, or he won't trust us at all."

"I wanted to know more about him," Natasha replied with ease, as if that explained her answer entirely, which in her mind it did. Of course that little traitorous feeling that made her feel safer with them on chirped in the back of her mind, but she pushed that away. Instead she put on her trademarked smirk, and made to pick up the shield before Coulson grabbed it and held it as far away from her as possible. "Besides, now we have an in to go speak with him face to face."

"Natasha, this is not how things were supposed to happen," Coulson rebuked her, although both spies in the room could clearly tell Coulson was happy about meeting his idol all the sooner. "Give me his tags, I'll take them."

"How about we all go, and I'll say I kept you two from running off with the Captain's goods," Clint teased them as he nudged them both toward the door. "Come on, the longer they wait the more shit Tasha will get into, and I don't want my partner benched anytime soon."

It took them less than a minute to get up to the room after they sent out a command from Fury to retrieve the rest of Steve's belongings, though Coulson wouldn't let any of them enter the room until he had taken a breath and composed himself, and likely prepared a number of platitudes to assuage the Captain's anger. Natasha had slipped the dog tags back down her blouse to keep others from seeing them, but the feel of the bundle of metal at the end of the chain steadied her, though she would never admit it to anyone. As they entered, Fury's gaze glanced them over before they fixed on her.

"Captain Steve Rogers, may I introduce you to Agents Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, and Natasha Romanoff," Fury said as the two larger than life men stood.

"It's an honor to meet you, Captain Rogers," Phil began as he shook Steve's hand and reverently handed over the shield. "I can't tell you what it means to me everything you've done for our country."

"It's nice to meet you too," Steve offered politely before he took his shield. A hard edge seemed to smooth out in the captain's bearing as he took his shield back. His most famous weapon, the one with the most saved lives and confirmed kills to its name. It protected him as well as those around him, and did unfathomable harm to his enemies over the course of the war. With it at his side, he felt safer, more in control of his surroundings, especially considering he was now up against the 21st century.

Coulson watched the reunion with a bright smile. "It really is an honor to meet you, Captain."

"Please, just call me Steve, Agent Coulson."

"Call me Phil then, Steve." Behind Coulson's back, Clint was handing Natasha another twenty bucks for a bet between them on how long it would take for Coulson to find his way to meet the Captain. Turns out it was about ten minutes. Natasha smirked as she slipped another twenty down her blouse with a wink at the archer before the soldier looked at the two of them curiously. "You two were betting on me as well?"

Coulson had the decency to blush as he moved past Steve and Fury handed him his winnings. Natasha noticed a glimmer of a smile on Steve's face at the sight before she shrugged casually.

"No offense, Rogers, but half of S.H.I.E.L.D. has likely a number of bets riding on the outcome of you waking up and what condition you would be in."

Natasha stepped forward and shook his hand before she reached down her blouse. Steve raised an eyebrow at her before she slowly tugged his dog tags out from snuggly between her breasts and let it skate across the cleavage she let draw his eye briefly. When she had finished shaking his hand she finally took the chain from around her neck and got up on her tiptoes to replace the tags on him where they belonged. Of course, the fact that his bowed head gave him a perfect view down her blouse was entirely intentional on her part. When she guided them to gently fall on his chest, he looked her in the eye with curiosity and the hint of attraction she always saw in men's eyes.

Steve had barely caught his breath when the three agents entered, and felt like he was punched in the gut despite the reassuring feeling of seeing his shield again. His eyes had taken them in as a group, well dressed but equally well armed, none more than the redhead that drew his attention a little longer than the others. By the smirk on her lips, she knew it too. He swallowed down any harsh retorts toward them, and his brief but sudden bout of attraction, before he took his shield and felt a bit of his home returned to him. Coulson was an interesting man, but respectful, which was nice. He might be helpful in getting accustomed to the 21st century. Romanoff, well, Steve wasn't sure what to make of her, especially after that briefly intimate exchange where she returned his dog tags.

"Thank you, for returning these to me," he said in a stronger voice than he felt as he stood back up straight and tall. Natasha's hands ran down his chest briefly before she pulled away, and Steve could tell she knew the effect she had on him, even so soon after he had been compromised by so many emotions. She seemed to tone it down, however, as she offered him a comforting smile and took a seat on the couch next to Coulson.

"Anytime, Rogers."

"Clint Barton," the spy introduced himself almost cheerfully to help break Natasha's brief effect on the captain.

Steve shook the man's hand and nodded politely to him. "Steve Rogers, feel free to call me Steve, all of you."

The others on the couch nodded and Steve sat back down in the armchair. He put his shield next to him despite all instinct and desire to put it on top of his knees, to grant him a defense mechanism against what was no doubt going to be a long and difficult conversation. Instead, Steve reached up to grab his dog tags and felt reassured by their presence. He would need to get another necklace for the rings and keys, and another for the tags. No doubt the chain he wore had been damaged by so much time in the ice and he didn't want to run the risk of losing them. As he let them fall back against his chest, he looked to Fury.

"So, about those files I asked for?"

"They're being delivered as we speak," Fury stated calmly.

No sooner had the words left the man's mouth than the female agent from earlier walked in with a box of files, followed by a few more agents that set a series of boxes nearby that Steve assumed were the rest of his earthly belongings, as meager as they were given his original lifetime. The disguised agent set the files on the coffee table in front of him, greeted him with a smile and apologized for trying to deceive him. Steve waved it off and bid her a good day before he eyed the box of files. It was going to be a lot to absorb, but even before the serum had changed him he had been good at memorizing things, planning things out, learning. Now he just had an eidetic memory and enhanced learning skills to go with it… which was both blessing and curse. Sometimes, you couldn't help but beg to forget certain moments. He knew that all too well, and he had too many moments he would rather forget.

Steve pulled open the box and found Howard Stark's file, with another two following which were likely the man's family. A wistful smile passed along his lips as he opened the file to see a few different pictures of Howard Stark, one as Steve knew him, one as he looked like when he died, and one with his family.

"Never figured Howard for a family man," Steve mused lightly with a wistful grin. "I only knew him when he was single and taking dames home often enough to put a regiment on leave to shame."

Natasha snorted in amusement. "The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree then."

"I take it... 'Anthony' followed in his footsteps?" Steve wondered curiously as he continued reading Howard's file.

"Until he finally committed to Ms. Potts," Coulson put in kindly. "Tony Stark is a genius and he knows it, and she likes to put him in his place. He's made some recent innovations that are fairly impressive."

Steve nodded as he continued reading the file. The others in the room had already read them, he had no doubt, but for his benefit they each picked one and began paging through them. When Steve reached the end of the file he shook his head. "Oh, Howard… I wonder if you hadn't crashed if you'd be here to welcome me back."

"He would have been part of the recovery team," Nick informed him. "It was his long-lasting endeavor to search for any sign of you, even after he left SHIELD. He funded the operation to search for you and kept it funded through a trust in his estate after he died."

"He cared a lot more than I suspected… He was a good friend," Steve muttered mournfully before he took hold of his emotions more completely. "I'd like to meet his son someday."

"Oh I gotta be there for that," Clint spoke up with a twinkle in his eye. "Any chance I can get reassigned to that detail, Fury?"

"I need your eyes elsewhere, Barton, you know that," Nick denied him casually before his gaze trained on Steve. "I'm sure you two will meet soon. I'll arrange it myself if it doesn't happen sooner."

Steve nodded but paused as he took notice of a special annotation. His breath caught briefly as he pulled a letter out of the file with his name on it. He looked to Nick, who was watching him with a calculating look before the one-eyed-man nodded.

"They all left letters for you if you were ever found, most suspecting they would be read at your funeral if they didn't find you before they died," Nick explained solemnly. "Nobody has looked at those letters, out of respect for you and their memory. You had a loyal crew, Cap."

"You're not kidding," Steve managed to say as he tucked the letter between him and the arm of the chair he sat in. His gaze trained on one of the memos in the file as he shook his head. "Howard had his lawyers fight so I had personal rights to everything Captain America so I had something more than accrued Military back-pay to come back to."

"That will be included in your financial records," Coulson said quickly as he moved to the boxes and located the one he was looking for. He came back with the box and set it aside for the Captain's perusal later. "You earned it after what you've sacrificed for all of us, Cap."

"Maybe," Steve answered, suddenly uncomfortable as he closed the file but held the pictures of Howard in his hand. "Any chance I can keep these?"

"It's all yours, Cap," Nick stated clearly as he looked through what Steve saw to be Bucky's file.

Steve nodded and set the pictures with the letter on the coffee table as he grabbed another file. One after another he went through the files, memorized each as he constantly swallowed down the brick that tried to crawl out of his throat and the tears that threatened to leak out of his eyes with the end of each file. No-one other than Bucky had died in the line of duty, which Steve was immensely grateful for. He took each of their pictures and gently put them in a neat stack next to the letters they had compiled for him. He had put what he thought might be the most painful one off long enough though. He had gone through all of the files except his own and one other. As he reached for Peggy's file, he hesitated briefly before opening it.

There she was! As bold as brass, brown hair cascading in curls that framed her aristocratic features that drew his gaze to her chocolate eyes and strawberry lips, even if the photo was black and white he could remember the colors as clear as if it was yesterday, because for him it had been. She wore her army uniform; she was proud, strong, capable, but also smart, compassionate, and insufferably amazing, a woman in a world that was proved wrong at every turn when it underestimated her. He caressed the picture of her as he knew her before he turned his gaze to the other photos.

She had moved on, like all of the rest. She sat with her family surrounding her, a happy smile upon her lips as beautiful as the day he'd met her. Even when he turned to a current photo of her, he saw nothing but Peggy Carter, the strongest woman, aside from his mother, he had ever met, and the one that captured his heart. He gorged himself on her photographs and the file all about her. He wanted to know everything, wanted to make sure she led a good life, even if it hadn't been with him. She lived a long and full life, with kids and grandkids, even her extended family. When he read of her medical condition, he nearly choked. Such a strong woman, slowly being taken away by dementia and alzheimers, her memory and mind her own worst enemy in her final years alive.

"She's beautiful."

Steve looked up to see Natasha Romanoff on the armrest of his chair. He hadn't even noticed her move, so engrossed with the information before him. He turned his gaze back to the photo of Peggy and offered a wry smile at the sight of her. Even now the mere sight of her could make him grin.

"Yeah… she still is," he said as his gaze turned to the old woman that didn't quite fit in his mind as Peggy just yet. He doubted it ever would because right now it felt like Red Skull had still won in the worst way imaginable: he had taken Steve's chance at a life in his own time with his own friends away from him, because Steve himself had to sacrifice himself to end the war, to end the threat of Red Skull and Hydra.

"Who was she?" Natasha asked.

Steve's heart raced as his mind balked at the question while he remained outwardly unmoved. How could she not know? The name was on the file clear as day! Then his mind took a turn and he realized what was unsaid in the question. Who was Peggy _to him_? He closed the file as soon as he had the letter and pictures in his hands before he looked to Natasha.

"One of the people closest to me before I went in the ice," Steve explained as vaguely as he could allow himself. "My best girl."

That was all she or any of them were going to get out of him right then, and Natasha nodded. She set a hand on his shoulder as if to brace herself before she moved, but Steve felt the gentle squeeze Natasha gave him to try and comfort him briefly. His gaze trailed Natasha as she walked over to get a drink before Steve turned back to the table and began ordering the files more precisely. He set them all back in the box except his own. He pulled the file over to him and raised an eyebrow as he looked over his service record.

"I've been labelled M.I.A. since the crash?"

"You were America's great hope; Captain America, the Greatest Soldier in History," Nick explained professionally as he observed Steve's reaction closely. "It was better to say you were M.I.A. than K.I.A. so that folks could still hope, one day, for your triumphant return. The people wanted to believe you would return to them in their time of greatest need, and a lot of people have forgotten that, even if you're still a national icon. Because if the Greatest Soldier in History was still believed to be alive out there somewhere, then there was nothing to stop the hope of you once again saving the world or ending another war. There are entire series' of comic books detailing your imagined exploits and service for the country that are still hot sellers today."

"The power of hope is a powerful thing, but this just feels… a little wrong, I guess," Steve said before he looked back at the file. "Even if I suppose it really is the truth now."

"It's not a lie if it's true," Clint agreed as Natasha handed him a drink.

"People will be glad to have you back, Captain Rogers," Coulson said with a belief that flowed through his voice as easily as ever.

"Right," Steve replied somewhat stiffly to them as he continued reading his file.

The pictures of him before and after his transformation because or Erskine's serum weren't new. He had the same pictures in his wallet, or at least he used to. For all he knew that and everything inside it was destroyed or in the nearby boxes. He shrugged the thought aside and finished reading his file, noting the annotations for his retrieval and subsequent surprising revival included. The captain nodded firmly once more at the file then slipped it away with the others as he peered at each person in the room. It had taken him barely two hours to get through the files, so focused had he been on them and almost nothing else. The letters he would read later, and the pictures he would find a way to keep close to him.

"I'll look through the rest soon," Steve explained as he leaned forward in his seat and watched each of the agents closely. "But I'm getting a bit hungry. Got any food around here?"

"Freshly and fully stocked fridge and pantry just for your arrival, unless you want us to have something delivered," Natasha chipped in as she looked him in the eye. "You can get just about any kind of food you can imagine delivered right to your door these days."

"Is pizza still the same in Brooklyn?" Steve wondered aloud. He had a lot of questions about the future now that he was at least halfway done reconciling his personal history. World history could wait, and right now he felt as hungry as 70 years on ice could probably make anyone feel. "Cause I've got about 70 years of missed meals to catch up on."

Clint chuckled lightly at that and nodded lightly at Natasha before Coulson stood up. "I'll have some agents get some for us asap, Steve. What would you like?"

"Classic pepperoni with extra cheese if they still have it like they used to make it. I'll eat anything you folks want otherwise," Steve said before he looked around. "Got any coke here a kid from Brooklyn can drink?"

"I know just the place," Coulson said as he made his way to the door. "Barton, Romanoff, the usual?"

"You know it," Clint said as Natasha nodded.

"Director?"

"I'll have what Steve's having," Fury said as he stood up and gestured for Steve to follow him while Coulson pulled out a phone and left the room. "Come on, soldier, I think I've got what you're looking for."

The pair made their way into the kitchen. It was a lot different than what Steve was used to, what his mom had taught him to cook with. He would have to have a lot of things explained to him, and not just about everything he had missed. Fury opened the fridge and pulled out two glass bottles of coke. Finally, something familiar!

"They usually only put out the glass bottles for sale around christmas anymore but we got these ordered special," Fury explained as he popped off the cap of one and handed it over to Steve. "They're in plastic bottles more often than not but we got these to make you feel a little more at home."

"Thanks," Steve said as he looked around the kitchen. He and Fury walked out of it, though Steve paused as he stood roughly near the center of the large area. "Is this where I'll be staying?"

"For a while, until you're ready to move out," replied the director easily as he resumed his seat with a light sigh of content after he sipped his own coke. "Agents Romanoff and Barton live here in those rooms while they're in New York, but they'll be heading to different missions in the next 48 hours. Your room is on the left, if you still want it."

"Thank you, I appreciate it, and everything else you have done and are doing for me," Steve told them. Nick offered a gracious nod as Steve leaned against the table and sipped the coke in his hands. A brief smile overtook his lips as he enjoyed the classic beverage and sighed in content as the icy cold liquid travelled down his throat. There was a lot he would have to get used to, not the least of which was an entire world that had gone on without him for nearly seventy years. Their observant gazes and quiet surveillance, however, would get annoying.

"I'm not glass you know, I grew up in pre-forties Brooklyn and fought a war so you can stop staring at me like I'm going to break down, or like I'm a target," Steve said as politely as he could, despite the bark in his voice.

"It's not an easy adjustment to make, learning everything you know and loved is gone," Nick began diplomatically. "We're just trying to make sure you're taken care of and that you're really alright."

"Yeah, well, it's not the first time I've lost something I love," Steve retaliated with a little heat. He hated being treated like glass, being treated like he was weak, like the victim or an invalid, like he had been by so many people in his younger years. He knew that's not what they were doing, but the rationality that calmed him so often had given way to some of his compromised feelings. He was handicapped, again, but in an entirely different way from before when he was a 90lbs soaking wet asthmatic with a host of other issues. He assumed his Captain America posture a little more, once again containing the roiling storm inside him as he took another sip of his drink.

"No, but you have lost your entire world and woke up to one that you barely recognize," Natasha argued gently back at him. "We might not know exactly what it's like for you, but we're here to help because we want to be. So take your time and get used to it, because the world doesn't wait for anyone."

Steve's gaze snapped onto Natasha quickly as he listened intently to what she had to say. She held nothing back in this moment, told him how his situation was, at least what she knew of it, and was going to be there to help, at least for a short time. He wanted to rage, to scream at them they had no idea what this was like but bottled that up. Captain America didn't get angry with his allies, he didn't lose control, he maintained it, took it if he damn well had to; so that's what he did. He took control of himself and held that raging storm inside as the agents began to talk amongst themselves when he didn't offer a reply.

Steve remained in place at the table, sipping his drink and listening to jazz as the agents talked shop. All the while, however, he observed them, and noticed Clint talking with his hands more than the others, and their movements seemed to resist making certain maneuvers. Steve peered more closely and saw the man had something on his ear. That didn't seem quite right, but the way Barton moved his hands reminded Steve of a past encounter he had with someone he'd come across working with the NYPD as a sketch artist. He was just about to put that thought aside as he finished his drink when Coulson returned with a stack of pizza boxes. The soldier quickly moved and searched for plates and another bottle of coke before he returned to the table. The spies hadn't quite moved yet as Steve set it before he looked to Clint.

" _Need a drink? What kind of pizza would you like?_ " Steve suddenly signed at the man.

Nick, Natasha and Phil froze in place as they looked from Barton to Rogers, and the bow-carrying agent blinked in surprise, caught completely off-guard by the fact that Captain America knew sign language. He let out a brief cough, more of a laugh than anything before he returned the gesture. " _I could go for a coke. I'll start with a slice of the one with just about everything on it… Thank you._ "

Steve gave Clint a beaming grin and gave the sign for "You're welcome" before he began to get things together for the archer. Clint, meanwhile, looked to Natasha with a bit of a grin.

"I like him."

"You would," she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. Barton punched her shoulder, before she hit him right back as they stood up. But unlike the others, she could tell that "thank you" had been for more than just preparing some dinner. Clint had thanked Steve for showing him Captain America cared about all kinds of people, even the deaf, and for going the extra mile to make Clint more comfortable around him even when he, Steve, was the Man Out of Time. So behind her friend's back, she locked eyes with Steve and echoed the gesture. " _Thank you._ "

The man offered her a genuine smile and a nod before he winked. "And what about you, Romanoff, what can I get you?"

"Such a gentleman, Rogers," she teased him lightly as she approached. "But I think I can handle it myself. Thanks for the offer though."

"Just shows my mom brought me up right, ma'am," he countered with another brief nod. Steve sat down and inspected the pizza for a moment before he brought it up, folded it in half like a true New Yorker and took a massive bite. He slowly chewed and his shoulders relaxed as he let a slight hum of appreciation escape him. His eyes closed and for a moment, just that moment, as the others talked and the jazz soothingly played in the background he could imagine being back at his place with Bucky, chugging a few cokes and devouring a pizza between them on a cold New York night. When he opened his eyes again, reality returned, but that didn't stop him from enjoying the pizza any less.

"Thank you, Phil, I'll pay you back when I can figure out how to get some of my cash together," Steve said as he looked to Coulson. The agents all looked at each-other, smirks on each of their faces while Coulson beamed at his idol.

"No need, Steve, we take care of our own here at SHIELD."

Steve nodded through another bite of pizza at Coulson as they all tucked into their meal. The super-soldier tried to be polite, but his metabolism was in overdrive from keeping him alive on nothing but what Steve remembered as "yesterday's breakfast" for the past sixty-odd years, and he couldn't help himself for a moment as he went through three slices before anyone else had even reached for a second. Natasha's eyes glittered with unsaid jokes as the two senior agents had knowing grins on their faces. It was Clint, however, that broke the ice.

"Looks like the Captain's still a growing boy," he joked as he leaned over his meal a little more. "Better eat up before he eats the rest of it on you, Tasha."

Steve looked a little sheepish as he shrugged, but Natasha was already a step ahead of him. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and Steve could have sworn her green eyes came more alive as they locked with his own bright blue peepers before she spoke up. "Nothing wrong with a good appetite."

Steve suddenly found it very hard to swallow as he kept his gaze locked on hers. Her smirk was indelible as Clint chuckled beside her, and Steve finally managed to finish swallowing that last bite before he turned his gaze away from her. She could wind him up with ease, and probably could have said or done a lot more, but he could tell she held back on purpose. She wanted to help him feel normal, to help him get a grip on everything, even if she had to be blunt about reality, or tease him to try and make him loosen up or get acclimated to their presence, especially hers.

He nodded in quiet thanks to her and they all continued to eat. None of them asked Steve questions about his past, in an effort not to remind him even more of what he had lost, but instead let him ask questions, and even guided him to a few they knew they could answer for him. Natasha told Steve about her experiences with Tony Stark, and Coulson filled him in on what happened during the end of the war. They fed him basic facts to help him get an idea of how the world was changing or what people were like.

In fact, he even learned a general idea of what everything was worth these days. Steve decided he would need a good economics book or lesson to help him get used to the new costs of everyday living, and to help him sort out what was no doubt a not-so-small estate that Howard had managed to set up for him. In any case, they let him take it one step at a time, even if he was now tossed into the deep-end and told to swim his way out into a new world. After they finished dinner, with many grateful thanks from Steve, the Captain went back to studying what he had missed, starting with his financials.

Steve studied well into the night and kept up with the conversations around and with him as he read everything he could get his hands on. Eventually Fury left, followed shortly by Coulson. It wasn't until around midnight that Natasha and Clint informed him they were hitting the hay.

"Ready for bed, Cap? You've had a pretty long day," Clint asked him as he stood up.

"I think I'll stay up and keep reading," Steve replied more slowly as he looked from the box of financials to a few others the agents had sorted out for him to read. "I've been asleep for almost seventy years so I think I've had enough of that for a while."

"Fair enough, just don't overdo it," the archer finished. "G'night, cap!"

Steve was just about to return to his reading before he looked to Natasha, she remained nearby. "Not going to bed yet?"

"No, I am," Natasha replied more easily. "Just, take Clint's advice, alright? You don't want to overdo it on your first day and night back."

"I'll… take that under advisement, but really, I'm fine," Steve told her with a smile. "Have a good night, Miss Romanoff."

Natasha watched him for a few more moments, then nodded. They both knew it was a lie, but right now she wasn't going to confront him about it. Instead she was going to let him deal with things the way he needed to. When he needed her, when he trusted her, maybe then she could help him a bit more than she was trying to now. Steve gave her a grateful nod as she left, and when her door was finally shut, Steve's gaze trained on the letters. There would never be a more private time to read them than right that moment, and he needed to know what they had left for him. He reached into the pile, sorted them out and opened Peggy's first.

 _Dear Steve…_

Behind closed doors, the four agents were looking at screens of one another for their late night debrief.

"So, he really is the Captain America we've all heard about," Coulson said to the others.

"Yeah, he is, but that doesn't mean he's not hiding something," Nick began as he leaned back in his seat. "I feel for the guy, I do, but I had expected to see more emotion out of him than what we witnessed today."

"He doesn't know us, Fury," Natasha cut in quickly. "Rogers just woke up in a new century with new people, new rules, new everything. He is the Man Out of Time and right now he's compartmentalizing extremely well to hold so much of it in. But we saw plenty of his emotions today even if he didn't show us everything. Frankly I'm impressed he has been so composed about everything. He needs time to adjust, time I don't think we are actually going to have a chance to give him. To Steve, yesterday he was fighting Red Skull and helping end World War II, today he's waking up to learn everything and everyone he knows is gone except for the woman he was falling in love with, who on top of everything else is now an old woman with one foot out the door and her mind in a haze. He's fought hard to contain himself and he's going to need an outlet, and soon."

"Well he may get that sooner than we think as well," Fury sighed as he looked to his second screen before he shook his head. "This was never going to be easy for him, but I'm afraid our schedule stands as it is. Within the next 48 hours Barton and Romanoff have to head out for their assignments, and you, Coulson, will be helping Barton at the Tesseract facility. I don't want to pull the Captain's new support structure out from under him as soon as we are, but he's going to have to deal with some of these changes on his own, especially if he's going to reintegrate into society."

"We can still help him until we leave, that might be enough to help stabilize him until our assignments are finished," Barton said as he cleaned an arrow. "In any case, we need to be prepared for anything, and that means a good night's rest in order to deal with him tomorrow."

"Agreed," Natasha said as she looked to the others. "I doubt he's going to sleep, and if he does it's not going to be for very long. I'll do what I can over the next 48 to help him stabilize until I finish my mission in Russia. Hopefully he'll be better adjusted and more willing to talk by then."

"Good, dismissed everyone."

As the screens shut down, Natasha turned her gaze to the door of her room to the den. Curiosity flooded her and the Black Widow deliberately opened her door so she could peek out at the recently revived captain. What she found was Steve Rogers pouring over his letters, silent tears running tracks down his face for what was rumored to be, perhaps, the third time in his entire life. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him as she would comfort a mark, to patch him up enough to make it easier for him, but she didn't.

Steve Rogers was not just any mark, not just a mission, not now. Steve had made Clint comfortable, given her friend some support and stability of his own even when Steve's own world had been taken away and replaced by something almost altogether different. Steve Rogers was an associate, an ally, an asset currently, but she knew he needed his space. Going in now and trying to fix his problems was not the answer. He needed this current outlet, this emotional release, and he needed it to be private…

Or did he?

Natasha assumed he needed someone to be there for him, someone he could lean on, depend on like he had in the past when it all got to be too much. He needed his friend, Barnes, or even Peggy Carter, but they couldn't give him anywhere close to that, not right now. None of them were anywhere near close enough to Steve to go out there and help him, even to provide a moment's comfort in this most intimate, crushing moment that Steve was confronted with. It was a private affair, Natasha knew, and she knew the best thing she could do right then was at least be there for him in the morning.

"Goodnight… Rogers."


	2. Chapter 2: Time to Wake Up, Soldier

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. I honestly don't mean to make these somewhat massive chapters, but I can't help myself. I get in the right headspace to write and things just happen, and I let them. In any case, I'm fairly happy with how this turned out.

2\. Some of this story is definitely inspired by various posts and pictures on the internet and I just wanted to bring those ideas to life a little in my story.

3\. As always, let me know what you think.

 **Chapter Two: Time to Wake Up, Soldier**

The pair of SHIELD agents woke to the smell of freshly cooked breakfast. In fact, it was such an irregular sensation that Natasha had grabbed her pistol and prepared to use it to beat whoever would break into their den to make breakfast when she opened the door and saw something she hadn't expected. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was in the kitchen cooking breakfast as if it was the most natural thing in the world. On the table were files they had yet to get to the day before, including Steve's financials which looked paged through, marked, read and signed off on.

"Nat, you better be making omelets because-"

Clint stopped halfway out his door with a knife in hand, just as Natasha had with her Glock 26, and stared at the sight before them. Clint's comment had drawn Rogers' attention and the formerly frozen soldier looked over his shoulder at them without so much as missing a beat, or the weapons they had at the ready. Natasha could almost swear the man smirked in amusement of all things at them but thought it could also be a trick of the light. Clint's eyes widened at the sight before he looked to Natasha, who very surreptitiously stowed away her weapon, a maneuver Clint echoed a second later, before they both came out of their rooms.

"What's the occasion, Captain?" Clint asked him as the two agents approached.

"No occasion, just breakfast," Steve staid as he flipped the omelet in the pan one last time. "What you have here is better than anything I'd get during the war and with a fully stocked fridge and pantry there were a lot of options. I decided omelets would be easiest to deal with considering I wasn't sure what you two preferred, so I have plenty of ingredients ready."

"...No man is as perfectly in tune with their golden reputation as you, even if you're surpassing the 'America's Golden Boy' qualities with this," Clint teased lightly, at which Steve rolled his eyes. Natasha smirked lightly before the archer continued. "What do you have ready?"

"Just about anything you can think of. Peppers, hash browns, onions, sausage, bacon, ham and other things. Give me an order and I'll follow it like a _good little soldier_ ," Steve called over his shoulder with an exaggerated wink. "What would you like?"

"Well, why not a little bit of everything in mine," Clint said with a brief nod before he took another whiff. "Did you make coffee too?"

"Uhh, maybe? I found manuals for the coffee maker and just about everything else in the kitchen set on the counter with a note from Coulon and just followed the directions," Steve said as he pointed briefly to the coffee pot on the counter with some uncertainty. He slid the omelet off the skillet with perfection and the pair of agent's eyes widened at the sheer size of the monstrous thing. Steve noticed their expressions and chuckled. "Yeah, that would be mine. I've had to eat more than others to keep my body fueled. It's one of the side-effects of my transformation. And to think, I used to get filled to bursting on two pieces of toast with jam and a glass of milk."

"Damn, that's a food eating challenge if I ever saw one," Clint said with some disbelief before he shook his head. He approached the coffee maker and noticed that everything was fine, the coffee was fresh, and Steve had actually managed to use an appliance from the future without causing a catastrophe, as some agents had expected might happen. Either the man adapted quickly, or those instructions were thorough, and Clint wasn't sure which was more comforting. "Make my omelet normal sized if you can manage it, Cap. You did great with the coffee maker by the way. Though this might be a bit strong."

"Agreed, but the only coffee worth enjoying is strong coffee, though it doesn't affect me like it used to… But I believe the lady is served first," Rogers teased before he looked to Natasha. "Miss Romanoff, thoughts on your breakfast?"

"I'll try it with everything. Don't worry about making strong coffee, we need it around here." Natasha approached Clint's section of the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She added a dash of sugar and cream before she sipped at it. It was good for regular coffee, even if she preferred espresso and other such drinks. She returned to the table and watched Steve put together an omelet with analytical eyes. "You don't have to put the lady first for everything though."

"Let's agree to disagree, Miss Romanoff, because a gentleman always makes sure a lady is taken care of," Steve responded with ease. "No offense to you or your abilities, though. I admire strong independent dames-I mean women-, agents!" The man groaned internally at his fumble before he continued. "Ahh but it doesn't mean you can't be treated like a lady by a proper gentleman."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Natasha taunted him gently. Steve raised an eyebrow but shrugged at the new phrase as he stored it for later knowledge. A few more witty remarks and innuendos crossed the spy's mind but she held them back for later in favor of keeping the conversation light and friendly. "So where did you learn to cook?"

"My ma taught me. She wanted me to be able to take care of myself when she was gone," Steve explained easily, his hand only briefly grazing his dog tags to comfort himself. "I ended up taking care of her when she worked herself to death while fighting TB, trying to help put me through art school. After that I just… kept cooking for me and Bucky when we moved in together. Came in handy later on for me and the Howling Commandos during the war..."

The explanation seemed to be cut off there, as the soldier seemed to clam up at revealing more of himself. He was personable, social, outgoing, but everything from the past was still so fresh for him, and the loss of all of that was even more sharp in his mind. Clint joined Natasha at the table and the two agents fell into easy conversation about meals they had cooked in the past, including Steve whenever he chimed in with a recipe or meal he had shared in the past. Eventually the three of them finished their breakfast and took a tour of the facility they were currently in. Coulson met them about halfway through and guided the tour toward the training room, which for their purposes would also work as a very brief testing ground for the Captain's abilities.

Steve could tell there was more to this little visit than letting him know where he could stay in shape but said nothing about it. The less he let on that he knew what was going on, the better. Instead, he indulged them with a few sprints across the room and brief climbing walls. He had already heaved two of their agents through a wall, so they avoided any further objects that could be thrown but they did put him in front of a punching bag. Steve looked at the thing and after he wrapped his hands, began to beat on it.

It was slow at first, getting used to the swing, the weight, the resistance, before he began to open up more and more on the punching bag. Bit by bit he increased the strength behind every blow, knowing they were seeing just how strong he was in some advanced way that he wasn't entirely familiar with yet. He kept going, letting off the building steam in his mind more and more. Images of the past few days sped through his mind along with a host of his worst memories: The whole goddamn war, liberating concentration camps and other prison installations, wiping out base after base, losing his mother, then Bucky, drinking but not getting drunk on Augsburg Schnapps after his death, then finally the invasion of the last HYDRA base and the defeat of Red Skull, and slowly freezing to death days later. One after another the images came to him until he didn't hold back and unleashed a relentless blow so hard the punching bag burst open, snapping the chain that held it in place, as a slight crunch and fizzle came from inside the bag when it landed thirty feet away.

"Sorry about that," Steve apologized with a breathless bark before he reigned in the leftover pain and rage. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

"Bullshit, he knows exactly how strong he is, and I doubt that showed all of it," Clint whispered to Natasha as the pair watched him.

Steve clearly heard them but feigned indifference and ignorance. Instead he played along with SHIELD's thinly veiled basic physical tests and kept up an easy conversation with Phil, Clint and Natasha throughout the rest of the day. They had subs and salads delivered for them and enjoyed another peaceful afternoon and evening as they filled Steve in on some more of what he missed. Eventually night fell once more and, just as the previous night, Steve stayed up later to continue reading files, however, at some point during the night he did go to his room and fell peacefully asleep.

At least, he tried to remain that way.

Natasha exited her room at normal military readiness time to find Steve absent in the main area. That in itself could be good or bad, and as she and Clint hadn't been alerted that he left their suite, he was likely in his room. Silent steps carried her to his door and Natasha pressed her ear against it. She couldn't hear anything until she eased it open just a sliver. What she heard was a soldier's worst nightmares.

Natasha pushed the door open the rest of the way to find Steve huddled on his bed with his blankets wrapped tightly about him, his body struggling against imaginary enemies. His body contorted once more, damn neared twisted himself in half as he panted and growled quietly. Natasha stood frozen, only for a moment, but it was enough to realize what was going on. The man was reliving the trauma of everything he had gone through in his recent years, and he couldn't break himself free.

"Rogers?"

Her whisper carried into the room but did nothing to help the man out of time. He was trapped in the horrors of his own mind, of his past, and a single whisper wasn't going to break him out of it. Natasha approached him quickly, the grace of her strides smooth and delicate as she moved to the bed and slipped on top of it.

"Rogers, it's alright," Natasha breathed to him as she tried to gain a grip on him. "You're not back in the war."

"Mom…" the broken soldier whimpered in his sleep as silent tears tracked down his cheeks. "Mom don't leave me alone! Please! Bucky, not you too! Don't go… Don't go! Stay with me!"

"Come on, Rogers, wake up!" Natasha hissed, trying not to draw any attention from Clint if he had also woken up this early. Truthfully, she felt bad for the guy, especially because he had once had somewhere he belonged and had been torn away from everything, and not by his choice either. Steve continued to thrash about until his hand gripped her wrist. Caught in his grasp, Natasha felt herself almost heaved on top of his body as he tried to keep her from moving away. Her first instinct was to lash out, was to hit him and move away and deal with whatever happened next, but she bit that reaction down. That might make his nightmares and reactions even worse than waking him up normally might.

The spy instead slid her body up along his until she could wrap her arms around his body and settled one hand into his hair. Her fingers carded through the golden locks as she tried to put his body and mind at ease. The thrashing slowed, but his grip on her wrist left a moment later only for his hands to cling to her body and pull her hard against him. His forehead pressed hard to her bosom while his heartbroken tears slowly began to soak her blouse as he whimpered out for his mother, Bucky, and all manner of others not to die again, not to leave him again, not to abandon him to the ice once more…

Not to leave him in a world without them, and something else she couldn't make out when his voice was muffled by the swell of her own breast.

For all her training in mental, physical, and emotional manipulation, Natasha could barely fathom what any of that felt like for him. She knew so little of that kind of life, to have people you love and to lose them, except for her new surrogate family, and she envied him that opportunity ever so briefly as she changed her grip and held his head tight to her chest. He had lost everyone he knew and loved, everything he knew, and now he felt abandoned and alone, and that fear had taken control in the night when he couldn't fight it down.

Powerful arms wrapped tighter around her, clung to her as if she was his only lifeline and the most precious thing in the world to him in that moment. Natasha breathed deep to resist the feelings associated with that and instead let herself feel the strength of his arms, the power, the safety and protection he would offer her in them should they enter combat as comrades, even if it was against whatever was happening in his dreams, and more for his comfort than anything else.

Natasha's fingers carded through his hair again at the thought before she let herself begin singing a soft song, a lullaby of all things, meant to soothe her targets and lull them into her web. But with Steve, she was trying to lull him back into his waking moments, to lull him into a place where he could be calm and collect himself… Where she could help him as much as everyone thought he could help the world.

The soft, smooth tones of her Russian lullaby smoothed out the rough edges of Steve's grip on her. What had been an almost painful grip on her waist slowly relaxed as she sang one small song after another, going through every last one she knew until finally his breath evened out and the tears abated. Natasha kept it up for at least a half hour, not that she counted much, not when the soldier in her arms almost cuddled into her embrace and his breathing settled down completely.

Natasha finally breathed a sigh of relief and quietly stroked Steve's head with her hands, gently massaged his scalp and neck so it wouldn't hurt from all the awkward angles it had pressed against her and the bed. For a moment she almost kissed his head or nose or cheek to bring him out of his sleep like she would other amorous marks she had manipulated but she held back. He didn't deserve to be treated like a mark, even if her mission was to help stabilize him as much as possible in the short time allotted. Personally, she began to curse the fact she had to leave this evening because of intelligence in Russia that needed her attention. She felt she could do more good right where she was by staying by Cap's side and getting him adjusted to the world, maybe even getting him to trust her. But she knew her motherland better than anyone, and SHIELD needed her there…

 _However…_

Natasha sighed over that thought as she ran her fingers through his hair once again. Rogers was finally calm, hopefully calm enough to wake up without issue. Her heart briefly fluttered as she felt him nuzzle into her touch before she had to hold back a slight laugh. He was firmly pressed against one of her breasts, practically dug into her cleavage in her V-neck blouse and she could only imagine what would happen when he woke up. She wondered what his old-fashioned sensibilities would make him think of their situation, and her blatantly forward actions in helping him in such a fashion. In fact, her impatience to find out prompted her to give him a gentle shake as she spoke to him.

"Time to wake up, soldier."

Steve was slow to come out of his sleep but when he did at her coaxing words, he felt something extremely off about his situation. The smooth as silk flesh against his cheek, the enticing scent of honey and fruit, it wrapped all around him just like his arms were around the curvy figure of a beautiful… woman. His eyes snapped open to find himself with a view he recognized from two days ago, a view that he altogether didn't mind gazing at for a moment as he appreciated the fine curves of a pair of truly swell breasts that would make any man pant with need upon staring at them too long. Fingers carded through his hair once again and Steve looked up just as the woman in his arms gently tugged on a few stray locks.

"Oh shit," he breathed in fearful disbelief.

"Nice to see you too, Rogers," Natasha answered him with a smirk.

Steve's heart raced against the clock before he pulled away as if burned and bolted upright. His gaze watched the laughing jade eyes and the sultry red smirk on Natasha's lips as she watched him edge away and try to get a grip of himself. He made to throw the blankets off only to realize another predicament and swallowed as hard as another part of him felt. He tore his gaze away from the stunning redhead in his bed and clenched his jaw as he tried to come up with an explanation for what just happened.

"I am so sorry, Miss Romanoff, I had no idea I'd entered your… room…" Steve paused in uncertainty as he glanced around. No, this wasn't her room, it was his, as evidenced by the boxes in the corner of his earthly belongings that he had moved there during the night. Even so, he kept his gaze trained away from her and tried his best to compose himself. "Erm… I guess I might ask what you're doing in my room, but I want to apologize for um… holding you and looking where I shouldn't have. I am sincerely sorry about that behavior and it won't happen again."

"You can always look, Rogers, but it's my say on whether you get to touch me again or not." Her teasing had the desired effect and Steve swallowed once again as he admirably resisted the traces of faint pink in his Irish complexion. "And there's no need to apologize, I came in to check on you and found you in a… compromised position."

"You found me having nightmares," Steve surmised quickly.

He saw Natasha nod out of the corner of his eye and the hammering of his heart changed its tune from embarrassment to shame and anger. For a moment he wanted to tell her she had no right, but he was far more upset with himself than he was with her. The nightmares had started the day Bucky died, just like they had started the day his mom died when he was eighteen. Apparently even being frozen in ice for a good seventy years wouldn't keep his nightmares from haunting him when it was only a week or so, mentally for him at least, since he lost Bucky… and a matter of less than two days that he had lost just about everything else.

"Again, you have my apologies for my behavior," Steve said as he straightened up on the bed and finally turned his gaze to her eyes, and nowhere else, despite her smirk and amusement clearly on display. "You shouldn't have to deal with my… issues."

"We're here to help you, Rogers, as long as we can, at least," Natasha reaffirmed for him with a light shrug as she sat upright and looked him in the eye. "Clint and I will be leaving this evening, so I hope our time with you helps. If you want to talk about it, just let us know, alright?"

Natasha was pleased that her offer put the soldier at a little more ease than moments before, despite his hesitation. His raised shoulders slumped slightly, the set of his jaw loosened almost imperceptibly, but the signs of a relaxing posture were all there. She wasn't a psychiatrist by any means, but she knew what it was like to be haunted by the nightmares of your past mixed with the horrors of your present and future. Even with that understanding, however, she wasn't sure how much she could help him, even if she wanted to. She doubted he would let any other soul know, even her after this brief outburst between them. So instead of lingering on the morbid thoughts of his nightmares, she pressed onward.

"If it will aid your _gentleman's sensibilities_ in recovering, then I accept your apology for such inappropriate behavior." Steve nodded, and his shoulders seemed to sag in relief. Natasha, however, couldn't resist playing with the soldier just a little bit. The idea of keeping him on his toes was too tempting to pass up. "But my offer still stands. Look but don't touch; unless I want you to, that is."

Steve groaned as he swallowed down the hundreds of witty rejoinders and comments that popped in his head from days in the army and with the USO girls. The showgirls used to tease him something terrible even after he had begun to tease them back. In fact, it had only gotten worse, and now the soldier figured he had just found somebody altogether worse than the entire troupe combined.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me, Miss Romanoff?" Steve wondered with a halfhearted sigh.

"Because I will be if you don't make me breakfast like yesterday, Rogers. I'm thinking pancakes." She prodded him with one foot as if to shoo him off the bed as if she owned it. Steve managed a brief laugh at that as he gave a nod of assent and rose from the bed. Natasha followed him promptly, but before he could reach the door she laid a hand on his shoulder and another on his chin to make him look at her. "I meant what I said, Rogers. If you need help, don't be afraid to ask, nightmares or not. You're not the only one who's lost what they knew their entire life."

Those words lingered between them and the gentle touch of the spy haunted the soldier even as she slowly began to let her hands drift away from him. Steve nodded slowly, but his gaze never left Natasha's, as if he sealed the promise between them with that simple look and tried to gain purchase on what she told him and what it might mean. Her offer was not one he had received from a woman besides his mother before, and he wondered if the modern world was more comfortable talking about these things than his own time. Oftentimes men just had to bottle it up, drink away their problems, or hold it in until they found themselves forced to some therapist that was getting in the way of doing their job. At least, that's what Steve remembered the Brooklyn PD saying about a few similar incidents. That Steve found himself in one so very similar unsettled him, especially because he had no idea what he was to the spy, or what she was to him.

Natasha, however, found herself earnestly wanting to help him, not just because he was a formidable asset in the making, but because he was supposedly a good man from all the reports she read. In fact, she was beginning to believe he actually might be a good man just from what she had witnessed in the past two days. He had done seemingly small acts of kindness that blossomed into so much more in the past two days; having entire conversations in Sign with Clint, cooking meals, keeping others comfortable even while his entire world was torn asunder. Little did the soldier know he had earned a quiet ally in the spy with his actions, and she wondered what would become of him in the future.

"Thank you… Miss Romanoff," Steve told her gratefully.

Natasha nodded in return and released him completely, so he could exit his room. Natasha followed him, pleased with the outcome of both her earnest desires to help him as an ally, a distant associate and asset, and her teasing of the soldier about their brief bedroom predicament. When she closed the door behind her, Clint exited his room dressed and ready for the day only to pause and watch the pair of them.

"I was just waking Rogers," Natasha offered him as the three of them headed for the kitchen and dining room.

"Uh-huh…" Clint drawled as he watched the pair. "What kind of 'good morning' did you give him?"

"Oh, just a little sneak preview."

Clint looked to Steve. "Do you need a cold shower?"

Steve shook his head and although he was quite used to military barracks banter, this was worse, and it was coming from spies!

"I take back what I said, Miss Romanoff," Steve countered them as he began searching for ingredients. " _Both_ of you spies will be the death of me."

The pair of spies grinned at him and winked at each-other as they got to work on coffee and helping Steve make breakfast by assembling the ingredients he asked for. Eventually, Natasha was seated on the counter with a curious tilt of her head as Clint nursed his coffee and Steve cooked. "How did you figure out that we're spies?"

"You don't move like soldiers, and that little show back in that fake room told me that SHIELD is more of an intelligence organization than a military one," Steve answered her with ease. "Plus, I read SHIELD's actual name, so it fit the pattern that you two are spies, especially considering your exotic weaponry, Barton, no offense."

"None taken, but it's no more exotic than your shield," Clint responded with ease.

"Touché." Steve slapped a few more pancakes on the plates and started the next batch quickly. "Looks like us wielders of paleolithic memorabilia might just have a bit more in common."

Clint, however, had gotten curious. Sure, the man had reacted to Natasha in the normal way, but there was a subtle difference to his reactions the archer recognized. In fact, Steve seemed to react to a lot of things in rather unique ways, despite his 1940's sense of manners, politeness, honor and gentry. Then again, the file was more about Captain America, the hope and golden boy of a nation, than it was on Steve Rogers, the young, sickly art school dropout from Brooklyn. Hardly anything was supplied about his personal life before Project: Rebirth besides what Steve had no doubt supplied on his own and what official records existed about his schooling, which was more than Clint technically had, being a high school dropout and carnival worker himself. So, Clint decided to do a little of his own digging; not into the man's past, not yet at least, but into his reactions and perceptions.

"So, how did you figure out you weren't in 1940's New York?" Clint wondered.

Natasha looked a little more interested, if only by the slight raise of her eyebrow, but it was clear the Captain caught their interest with ease. Steve continued making pancakes until the batter was gone before he answered them, composing his answer as professionally as possible.

"I was honest when I said it was the game on the radio," Steve responded with a gentle shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh yeah? I think you're holding back," Clint teased him as he leaned against the counter and loudly slurped his coffee to watch the captain twitch slightly. "What else tipped you off?"

"Don't you already know that, considering it was a test?" Steve asked as he pondered how to keep his perceptive capabilities to himself. He slapped the last pancakes onto the platter before him and the three of them quickly made their way to the table which was already loaded with syrup, butter, whipped cream and fruit, courtesy of the two agents getting it all together while Steve cooked.

"We'd just like to know what cues you found, Rogers, that's all," Natasha prompted him lightly. "Just a professional interest."

"Another test," Steve bantered lightly with the tiniest roll of his eyes. "Fine. The pictures of the streets were obvious, considering you know I'm an art school dropout. Despite that fact, I loved making and looking at art, so identifying that was second nature. The breeze was artificially created, the radio was too nice to be put in a single recovery room, let alone a military hospital, and there were no get well presents or other paraphernalia in the entire room."

Steve paused for a moment as he stacked a few pancakes on his plate with butter and syrup in between each floppy, delicious layer. "There were also no signs of visitors or other people staying around. No scent of lingering perfume or male smells besides my own recently washed body, and no blankets of people that had slept nearby because the nurses and doctors couldn't force them from my side. Then there was that agent… Her clothes were all wrong. She wore a man's tie and her heels didn't match well with the conservative way she wore her skirt and proper hosiery. Not to mention her hair was completely wrong for the setting and..." Steve swallowed down some of his discomfort as he blatantly avoided Natasha's gaze and stared right at Clint. "No woman would be caught dead with misbehaving lingerie like she was wearing beneath her blouse."

Natasha and Clint wore matching smirks as Steve quickly shoveled some pancake into his mouth to avoid speaking and any further discomfort. Natasha, however, was the first to strike. "She was wearing a push-up bra, an old one. When we go shopping later I just might model a modern one for you boys."

The teasing, sultry lilt of her voice made Steve swallow down his food hard as he kept his eyes trained away from the seductive redhead that seemed to want to kill him with her teasing, seductive, and almost improper nature. Clint, however, broke out into gales of laughter.

"Yeah, I can imagine how that conversation might have gone if you called her on it," Clint laughed. "'Excuse me ma'am but your titties are not cones and aren't in the right place! How dare you wear such a scandalous thing! I'm calling bullshit!'"

Steve shook his head as Natasha continued to smirk at him and Clint seemed to devolve further into the throws of laughter without stop. "I worked with USO showgirls for a while, you learn a lot about women and their... unmentionables in the business..." Steve watched both spies closely as they continued to laugh and smirk at him. "I'm never going to live that little note about the lingerie down with you two, am I?"

"I doubt it," Natasha confirmed for him, her lips still curled into her wry, seductive grin. "But at least you noticed all of the cues."

"Would you have done better than her?" Steve queried interestedly.

"I would have gone through with the cues regardless of my desire to show off my spy-craft," responded the redhead with some hint of pride. "But you have a very keen sense of perception, Rogers. I'm curious what else you're good at."

"Not avoiding modern day teasing, apparently," Steve sighed with a light grin as he looked to her a little more seriously. "I guess I'll have to learn more about today's culture and how to react in certain situations… You weren't serious about modeling your lingerie… were you?"

Natasha couldn't help but hum in amusement around the pancake she had just taken a bite of. Only when she devoured the bite completely did she speak. "Not if you didn't want me to be. I would show you bikinis, but I've got a rule against those recently," she taunted him with a wink. Steve looked somewhat quizzically at her despite hiding more of his nerves and attraction before Natasha continued. "Wardrobes have changed quite a bit since you were around, and with women being equal, or as much as the free world of America believes they are, there have been a lot of changes in fashion and manners from back then. We are going shopping today to make sure you have a wardrobe and proper toiletries and other supplies you might need while Clint, Coulson and I are gone, so you'll have a chance to see both in action."

"Well, that's comforting," Steve deadpanned lightly while Clint finally calmed down from his laughing fit.

The three of them discussed a few stores they might visit while out, as well as some of the fashions of the modern world so Steve wouldn't be too surprised or scandalized, though the latter they didn't have to worry about, it seemed. Apparently after the talk about lingerie he was more curious about clothes in the future than worried they would be inappropriate in 1945, since he most certainly wasn't in 1945 anymore, and 2012 was a lot different to what he grew up in, as far as he could tell. The three finished up their breakfast and as soon as they were done they prepared to leave. Coulson was handling some other agents in preparation for their evening departures, so he begged off, but warned the two younger agents about overwhelming the Captain out in the city.

The three piled into a SHIELD SUV and made their way out into the wide city, where Natasha and Clint quickly took him to various clothiers and boutiques to get an updated wardrobe. Steve often found himself going for function over fashion, and repeatedly attempted to grab clothes more suited to his knowledge of 40's fashion before Clint and Natasha urged him to go easy on it. Natasha was quite good at redirecting him, not just with clothing recommendations, but with ideas that if he was going to go unnoticed, he needed to blend in; because blending in would offer him its own kind of invisibility that he hadn't gotten in the last few years of his life and was doubtful to get in the coming ones either.

"So how are we paying for all of this? I mean, I know you told me about inflation and I'm catching up with that quickly, but this still seems like a lot of money for the wardrobe of one man and a few new outfits for others," Steve wondered to them as he looked at the large pile of clothes in front of him. He had changed into a blue button-down work shirt, khaki cargo pants, and some workman's boots to make him more comfortable with the world and offer him a handsome blue-collar worker sort of vibe, something he was fairly comfortable with. He didn't mind it overall. In fact, he rather enjoyed the clothes, even if he kept glancing at tweed jackets, and various hats and caps around the stores. His clothes had a variety of functional and fashionable clothes, some meant for obviously upscale occasions that Steve wasn't sure he was comfortable going anywhere near in the recent future. Even so, he decided that, with time, he would get used to and possibly even come to like modern fashion…

Even if he believed Natasha showing off cleavage much more than any woman in his day, beside the USO showgirls, was a little indecent. Even so, she pointed out the fact that it was normal in the past two or three decades, especially in dresses for various events. She used a few sales associates, passers-by, and magazines to demonstrate her point, which made it easier to accept. Thankfully Natasha had skipped the lingerie fashion show, though that didn't stop her from throwing in some lingerie to the pile. Steve went still at the sight and knew perfectly well it was for his benefit, or torment. He wasn't sure which was more important to the spy, besides her personal amusement with their current arrangement of course. The fact she was smirking at him and his reaction was telling enough.

"SHIELD credit card, no limit surprisingly," Natasha spoke clearly as she took out the piece of reinforced plastic with a blue and gold design on it. Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Natasha couldn't help but imagine him like a cute golden retriever for a moment before she realized she had said words he wasn't quite familiar with yet. "Right, you're not up to date on economics. We have credit cards these days, they function like a loan or a line of credit from banks and credit card companies that allows you to spend money you eventually have to pay back with interest. There are also debit cards, which allow you to transfer funds straight from your bank, and all of this is done electronically. There's also cash and check but those are, like a lot of things you're probably familiar with, falling more and more out of fashion with each decade."

Steve let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. He was afraid they hadn't brought payment and would be forced out, but her explanation, while brief and nowhere near all-encompassing, did settle his nerves. He would have to get used to prices quickly and was glad he had a way to get what he needed, hopefully.

"Looks like I really need to get a few modern economics books and lessons, not to mention some store magazines and papers to get used to everything," Steve muttered with a sigh to the two spies. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote a note expanding on one he had already made before he put it away. Neither spy caught what was on the list, but they had no doubt it was a list of things the Captain intended to learn, and they were right.

"Speaking of economics and money;" Clint chipped in cautiously, "how's your situation? Or did you not figure out all of your financials yet?"

Steve scowled at the spy. "Where, or rather when, I come from you don't ask those kinds of questions unless you're close and looking to help pay for a few things, and sometimes you don't even ask, you just do it as a gift. Not to mention the fact that I grew up in the Great Depression, and that sort of talk wasn't at all comfortable for anyone back then, especially the sons of Irish immigrant single mothers that struggled every day to care for those same sickly sons."

The cold, commanding, barking tone of voice Steve lectured them with wasn't lost on either spy, especially Clint who had, despite having faced far eviler and certainly disfigured sons of bitches, shrunk ever so slightly away from the intimidating Captain. The awkwardness settled in for a moment before Natasha spoke up.

"He didn't mean to insult you or to be impolite, Rogers," Natasha stood up for her partner. "Even these days it's considered a little impolite to ask. Do you remember what I told you back at the apartment?" Steve nodded stiffly, though the cold look in his gaze softened a fragment. "Then you know he was only asking because he wants to help you, just like I do, and so do Coulson and Fury for that matter. Hell, even Maria Hill wanted to be here to help but she is off taking care of other business. So, don't bite our heads off for asking possibly impolite questions that we think are important to getting you on track. We want to help, that's all."

Steve's gaze never shifted down, but the slow, steady slump of his shoulders and the relaxation of his fists back into a casual shape told the pair of spies all they needed to know about the slight shame and guilt he felt. The nod he gave was uncomfortable but understanding as he looked from Natasha to Clint.

" _Sorry about that, Barton, but it's a touchy subject where I'm from,_ " Steve signed slowly to his new associate.

Clint, however, merely smiled and waved off the apology and signed in return. " _It's alright, I understand that this is a big change for you and I'm sorry we're gonna have to leave you tonight. So, apology accepted. We just want to help, I promise._ "

Steve sighed and offered an apologetic, boyish grin, and Natasha could see a number of women nearby practically swoon at the sight in the various reflections she was using to survey the place. In fact, she found the look rather endearing as well, even a bit boyishly handsome on him. So, when the two men shook hands, she rolled her eyes at the gentleman's agreement before she pressed on with the conversation.

"So, if you don't mind us knowing, we might be able to help you with it," Natasha continued in a more neutral but still helpful tone of voice.

"Well I'm not sure how much is a lot these days, but I think I'm covered for the rest of my life," Steve said with an embarrassed blush. "Howard did good- great actually, trademarking Captain America for me. With me labelled as MIA the army continued to up my pay grade according to the ranks I would have earned but left me ranked, or rather titled, as 'Captain America' because nothing sounded better, or at least that's how Howard, the military, and the accountant that was assigned to my estate explained it with their notes in my financials."

Steve looked away as Clint put a few more shirts on the pile that matched both of their styles, though a few were for Steve and a few were for Clint himself. The embarrassed blush seemed to grow as Steve hunched his shoulders slightly before he shook off his discomfort. "I've got more money than I know what to do with, and certainly more than I think anyone ever had during the depression or otherwise. The fact it's been just sitting there gaining interest all of this time, well, it shocked me when I saw it."

"Meaning?" Clint prompted quietly as the pair of spies closed distance with him to keep it private between them.

"I have a few hundred million dollars to my name," Steve practically whispered with a hint of embarrassment, fear and uncertainty.

Natasha barely kept her eyes from widening, she was sure, and Clint failed spectacularly to hide his reaction, as his jaw dropped, and his body went slack. Steve Rogers really was rich, but he was by far the humblest person about money she had ever seen, though that might change once he got to spending it and realized exactly how much he had on his hands in comparison with the rest of society. She gazed upon his features and noticed how uncomfortable he was before she set a hand on his elbow.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, Rogers, you earned it," she assured him carefully. Before he could protest, she put a hand up to silence him. "No, you did. You sacrificed yourself for the entire world, not just America. You gave up any semblance of normal life in the past the moment you were picked for Rebirth and you have a second chance at life right now. Howard Stark wanted to make sure you, his friend, were taken care of if you were ever found alive. I think he managed that and then some. Besides, your residuals on the Captain America flicks are no laughing matter I'll bet."

"No… no they're not," he spoke with a shake of his head and an unsteady breath. "I just feel uncomfortable having so much when my mother and I could barely support ourselves half the time. I'm not materialistic by any means. I grew up without a lot of things and didn't really want much because I just grew up learning to be content with what I had… I expected to leave the army and become a… what do you call them… a starving artist for the rest of my days. I guess that's definitely not happening now. Having all that money? I'll bet half of it I'll barely scratch the surface of it in my lifetime."

"Well I guess we know who's buying drinks and opening a tab at the local pub now, huh?" Clint teased him.

That got a smile out of Steve, and a memory flashed behind his eyes at Dugan saying something similar way back, a memory he relived briefly in that moment as if it was actually happening again. It hurt to remember him, knowing he and almost everyone else was dead, but it was nice to be reminded there were people like him in any time. That Clint was one of them, well, it felt good to see it again.

"As long as you're providing the entertainment, I don't mind," Steve poked him right back.

"Hah! Nah not me, that's Natasha's job," Clint joked casually. "But I'll beat you at darts every time just to keep things interesting."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Clint while Steve took the comment an entirely different way. The soldier looked caught somewhere between horrified and pissed before Natasha chuckled and put a stop to that without batting an eye.

"Thanks for that, Barton, you really know how to raise a girl's self-esteem," Natasha countered sarcastically with a massive roll of her eyes. Steve still looked somewhere in the neighborhood of outraged before she set a hand on his arm again and whispered to Steve, so Clint couldn't hear her. "Not that. I'm sure you'll enjoy my singing Rogers, like you seemed to this morning."

Steve was a little put out at that and confused by the byplay on display between the pair of spies. At Natasha's assurance, however, the hard edges of anger disappeared from his mind and he realized she was being honest. That and he vaguely remembered someone singing in his dreams just before he woke up and now knew it was his subconscious drawing in her influence. He let out a tense huff of breath before he nodded and began to form an idea about the pair that he should have realized sooner.

"He's your Bucky?" At his whisper, Natasha raised an eyebrow before Steve pressed on. "Your best friend, your partner in crime, right?"

Natasha nodded at that, glad he understood and was perceptive enough to see that relationship in the past few days, and the Captain smirked. She wondered what he was up to before he put a hand on her lower back, a feeling that wasn't unwelcome coming from a handsome gentleman like him, and he none-too-lowly whispered, "So what kind of entertainment might you want to give me, Natasha?"

Natasha was glad Barton couldn't see her grin, but in the reflection of a mirror she could see Clint's face briefly transform into an amalgam of shock and discomfort, along with other things, at the events that played out before him. The soldier couldn't hold it in and broke the facade with hearty, chest-deep chuckles that alerted the archer to what was going on. Barton threw his head back and his hands in the air as he leaned against the nearby pillar as Steve and Natasha broke apart and chuckled at his expense.

"Worth it," Steve said as he enjoyed the first true laughter he'd had in the past few days.

Natasha let her casual, wry smile part her lips briefly before she nodded. "You should have seen your face, Barton. I can't wait to get the security footage of it to show to Phil… Or maybe that girlfriend you keep hiding from me."

"Never gonna happen, Tasha," Barton challenged her before he got back on track. "Plus, I think Phil would have a heart attack thinking you were seducing our good Captain. So, let's get this paid for and go somewhere else to get your other needs and clothes, Steve."

"If it's all the same, could we stop by an art supplies store at some point?" Steve asked the pair. The two spies paused to look at one another before they looked at him curiously. "I'd like a sketchpad and pencils along with other supplies… Mine are all used up back at the base."

"Sure, sounds like a plan," Clint began as he picked up one section of clothes that he had sorted out for himself.

"It will be interesting to see your work," Natasha said as she picked up her own bundle. "If you let us look, at least."

"I'm not sure I could stop you, I never could stop Bucky from looking at anything," Steve joked lightly before he sobered up some. He grabbed his bundle and that was all he said before they reached the art supplies store. He spent some time with one of the attendants talking over art theories and designs, the quality of supplies and what was cheapest before Natasha kindly reminded him he could get whatever he wanted. So, Steve got what he wanted and then some, including a number of books about art theory and history that he showed a great deal of interest in.

The trio visited a few more stores, got Steve what he needed and a couple of leather jackets he seemed to like, as well as a few long overcoats that despite being out of current fashion for the most part, he insisted on for rainy weather. They picked up his necessities and toiletries shortly after and he was going to grab a watch before the two agents reminded him he could get a shield issued one that would be high quality but functional and that wouldn't stand out. When they suggested they should grab some food out of the base to bring back, Steve didn't argue. Once they were back at the base the trio separated their things next to their rooms before they got to their food.

"Mind answering a question, Rogers?"

"I am right now, Romanoff," he teased her with a slight grin.

"Cute," she said with a light smirk. "But that won't stop me from asking my question anyway."

"Well then, ask away," Steve replied easily as he took another bite of his Chinese, which he found was surprisingly good.

"How many languages do you speak? Because ASL definitely wasn't on your service record."

Steve raised an eyebrow before he nodded in agreement. It was a fair question. He had learned a lot of languages on the road and never really bothered to inform anyone of all of them. Besides that, he had learned a few specifically for his time during the war so he could blend in and gather intelligence or interact with the locals and earn some goodwill. Gabe and Jacques had been a great help with that.

"That answer depends on if you can keep up with me," Steve challenged as he waved his fork lightly and leaned back in his seat, a half-empty quart of sesame chicken now in front of him before he continued eating.

Natasha's answer was to lean forward and smirk. " _On va voir_ , Rogers."

The pair were off like a bullet, with Clint chiming into the conversation with every language they each knew as they continued to converse, even changing languages in the middle of the conversation. French was a favorite among the three for a few moments before they switched to German, then Italian and Japanese passed them by quickly, languages Natasha and Clint suspected Steve would know from the war anyway. What surprised them was the Latin, which he explained as a matter of course growing up Irish Catholic, and Spanish, which happened because he got tired of hearing some Spanish speakers in New York talking and he wanted to know what they were saying as a kid.

Finally, however, he got the best of them when he started speaking Irish Gaelic, technically his mother tongue because of his immigrant parents, though he grew up with just as much English in his house. Of course, Natasha couldn't have that, so she dished out the Russian, which the Captain huffed at briefly.

"One of the few major languages involved in the war that I didn't learn," Steve griped with a sigh as Natasha smirked victoriously at him over their food as Clint chuckled. "Didn't have the time to learn it between keeping up with my other languages, training and the war itself."

"Vasily Zaytsev wanted to meet you, or so the rumor goes," Natasha told the captain as they finished their meal and began to clean up. "He left notes of it in his memoirs. He thought of you as a hero of the people, even if you were from a country he wasn't all too fond of."

"I thought something similar of him, and the White Death come to think of it, though the politics of it all weren't my cup of joe. They were men who devoted themselves to ending the threats to their homes, to their people, or at least, I had hoped that was the reason behind their performance in the line of duty," Steve answered her with a light sigh. He pulled the list out again and added a note before he slipped it away again. "Another thing to study, politics. I bet it's worse these days."

"Well if you have to ask, it usually is," Clint grumbled lightly as he threw away the chopsticks expertly into the trash can twenty feet away without even looking. "Don't worry though. If anyone tries to use you that way they'll have me to answer to at the least, and I'm sure Coulson would throw a fit over it as well."

"We have your back, Rogers," Natasha said with a smile as the pair of spies and the soldier settled into the den area with their drinks.

"Yeah, but you'll be leaving soon," Steve muttered almost bitterly.

"We'll be back before you know it," Clint said as he patted the man on the shoulder. "Hopefully I won't be gone long. While I enjoy surveillance, I like to be helping people rather than watching scientists all day."

"And my job won't take me more than two weeks at most," Natasha followed up with a brief nod as she took a drink of beer. "I'll be back, Clint might be as well by that time, and maybe by then I can take you out to Coney Island or someplace fun and familiar for you, even if it has changed a bit since you last went there."

Steve actually grinned at that. "Coney Island, huh? Didn't peg you for the amusement park type, Miss Romanoff."

"A girl's gotta find her thrills somewhere other than work, Rogers."

Steve chuckled at that and nodded lightly. "Alright deal, we'll go to Coney Island when you get back."

"Geez, steal my fun at an amusement park and leave me out of it why don't you?" Clint teased the pair of them, though Natasha rolled her eyes at him and Steve chuckled again. "I'll join you both if I can at that time. If not, maybe you and I can go hunting sometime, Steve," Clint suggested before he paused in curiosity. "You have been hunting before, right?"

"You want me to go shoot Bambi's mom?" Steve wondered in a fake, scandalized voice. "How could you?!"

"You get hungry out in the wild sometimes," Clint said with a casual shrug. "Besides, deer makes a hell of a meal now and then and lasts a good while too if you get a good size doe or buck."

Steve let go of his facade and chuckled again. "You're not wrong. We had to do our fair share of hunting to keep supplied on extended trips behind enemy lines. It was hard since the forests were picked pretty clean, but we managed." The captain fell into himself for a few moments, thinking about the possibilities and the strange thought that he was actually making plans with these people after having lost his world in a time when he should be grieving for everything he had lost. It was odd, but in a way, it was comforting, and he supposed that's what they were trying to do; not just because it might be their job, but because they seemed like decent people. "Yeah, why not. Sounds fun as long as we're hunting to eat and not just for kicks. I won't do anything wasteful."

"Wouldn't expect anything less, cap," Clint agreed after a deep swig of beer. "And don't worry, you can get the meat prepared into a lot of things these days and jerky makes a great snack on missions."

Steve nodded before he stood up and finished his drink. "I'll come back to this in a second, I just hate seeing all of those bags sitting there where we could trip over them… I kinda like an organized place."

"You're not the only one," Natasha said before she downed the rest of her beer and stood up as well. "Let's take a brief break to put our things away, then we'll come back to this."

Clint agreed and soon enough all three of them were putting things away in an orderly fashion.

As soon as she was in her room, Natasha sealed the door and enacted privacy protocols. Once all was set, she turned to the screen on the wall with a slow even breath as she prepared herself.

"Urgent request, direct line to Colonel Fury."

The screen snapped on with the SHIELD symbol and a series of confirmation screens swept across the screen. Natasha was extremely glad she had automated her system to bypass most of the confirmation windows and create security filters whenever she had to make an important videocall. Not a minute later, Nick appeared on screen, his one eye staring seriously right back at her.

"Rogers better be escaping, going crazy, or trying to off himself or Barton for you to call me like this, Romanoff."

"That's my concern, Director," Romanoff began to his astonishment. "Rogers doesn't trust anyone, at least, I doubt he'll trust anyone but those that he met after waking up, even then only just barely. He needs stability, much more than we can give him in two days. Besides, putting a bunch of books and files in front of him is cold and impersonal. He needs a guide, Fury."

"Are you volunteering?"

The incredulous tone in his voice made Natasha smirk. "I am. My skills will be of more use here. I have knowledge of the world that he needs, and while text resources, course books and the like will help, he needs a personal touch, a teacher. He comes from a time where human connection was a lot more important than staring at a fucking screen."

"You expect me to believe you would rather babysit Captain Rogers than follow intelligence leads about Russian mafia supply lines?"

"Fury, Clint was my guide out of the darkness and I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him," Natasha argued, her dispassionate façade falling ever so briefly to reveal one of the truths of herself, even if the man she was talking to already knew it. "Rogers needs someone that understands what it's like for your entire life to change in the blink of an eye. Giving him a support structure only to take it away within days of him waking up will not earn us his trust, nor will he feel comfortable with anyone. He needs to be brought up to speed and coaxed out of his shell. He needs to trust someone, and he needs someone to give a damn about him. Because if nobody gives a damn about him, he won't give a damn about us, least of all himself."

Fury was quiet and his expression stoic as Romanoffs impassioned speech broke the spy's general tones of sarcasm, mystery, and seduction. She knew what she was talking about, and if Fury was honest with himself, they really would only sabotage themselves if they pulled his support structure away from him after only two days, as Romanoff had guessed. The cold, impersonal approach would have worked to some basic extent if he hadn't arranged for his top agents to be present when he initially greeted the living legend and planned to debrief him. Then again, would it have helped all that much? Would he even care if he didn't have someone there for him? So what option was the best now?

"What about Russia? The Mafia can be a fickle son of a bitch."

"Fickle, yes, but we'll have more information to gather if I put it off for now," Natasha answered stoically. "I can always put on a little black dress, get someone's attention and initiate interrogation, nothing I haven't done before. Besides, they're just dealing in weapons and other trafficking operations. When are we ever going to have the best opportunity to make a difference for a man like Rogers that everyone else at SHIELD so desperately thinks we need?"

Silence filled the room before Fury flicked his hand a few times on a tablet off-screen. "Your mission to Russia is scrubbed and intelligence gathering will be postponed until you feel it's time to take off Cap's training wheels."

"How kind of you, sir," Natasha responded with sarcasm. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon."

"Pray you don't."

The screen went black and Natasha couldn't help the smirk that slid across her face. A few weeks without having to go to Russia, a nice little gift for herself. She glanced to the door and knew Rogers would probably find it odd that her agenda had changed, but it was worth it. Now, how to tell Clint?

Natasha quickly put her things away before she exited her room. The moment she saw Clint she moved in close and whispered to him in urgent Russian. Their conversation was brief, but the grin on his face heralded a whole host of material the man was cooking up for his return from his assignment. She had little doubt he'd be asking them all sorts of suggestive questions later.

Steve took the longest to finish up, naturally, because he had an entire new wardrobe and new toiletries to take care of. The boxes full of his possessions still lined the corner of his room but he didn't have the heart to unpack just yet. The only thing he had taken out were his sketchbooks and other more personal items, like his wallet and what pictures he owned of his family and past life. As he glanced at his sketchbook, however, he was assaulted by all the things he wanted, no, needed to put to paper as soon as possible; things he didn't want to forget; people, places, and events important to him.

Without hesitation Steve grabbed the new sketchbook and supplies before he returned to the room. The pair of spies noticed but didn't ask questions. Instead they let him set himself up in an armchair and conversed quietly with him over drinks. Neither asked what he was drawing, they just let him draw because they knew there was something just itching to get out of him, and he needed to put it down somewhere safe, somewhere personal.

At one point, Phil Coulson joined them, and Steve knew the end of their brief time together was coming. The group ate their dinner, talked like old friends in the case of the agents, and new acquaintances in Steve's case. He hid his grief and pain well, after having put his sketchbook down, well enough none of them questioned him about it or his past in the hopes of not setting something off. Coulson, however, was the one to ask the question when Steve added another series of items to his list.

"Mind if I ask what that is, Cap?"

"I was actually going to ask you a question about it," Steve replied with an easy smile. "You've been busy the past day or so and I know we haven't gotten to know each-other very well, but would you mind ordering me the things on this list before you leave? I know you're their handler," Steve continued with a gesture to Clint and Natasha. "And I guess you kinda feel like mine because of that. Would you mind?"

"Not at all Captain, I'll make sure you get everything you want need from this list." Coulson smiled at the captain for a moment before he looked at the list. His unassuming smile remained as he examined it, knowing they had prepared a number of these materials ahead of time for him beforehand until he reached about midway through the list. He contained his surprise by the same expression but nodded briefly as he folded it up and put it in his jacket. He felt the cards against his hand and his nerves skyrocketed for a moment.

"Umm… Captain, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind signing these for me?"

Steve looked over at Coulson curiously before he saw the cards coming out of his jacket. The captain's eyes widened briefly at the sight and tilted his head curiously. The nerves the unflappably polite and charming agent exuded told him enough about the situation and Steve repressed a sigh. Coulson was a lot like the kids way back on the USO tour, but he was also different. Plus, this was a request from someone that had done their best to make him feel comfortable while no doubt keeping others from bothering him overmuch. At least, that's the feeling he got whenever he mentioned him to Natasha and Clint about why Coulson wasn't there. Fury had the entirety of SHIELD to run, so Steve didn't fault the man for not being here. Plus, he wasn't sure he trusted Fury, or any of these people, not as much as he trusted anyone way back when, but he would have to learn to.

 _Otherwise I'll be more alone here than I feel even now, and I'm not sure I..._

"Yeah, sure, do you have a pen or marker you want me to sign it in?" Steve said as he pulled himself from his stupor and cut that maudlin thought off at the knees.

Coulson provided the pen and handed over the cards reverently, with only a glimmer of shaking hands, no doubt in nervous anticipation. Steve saw how his reputation still affected Coulson, who looked up to the Captain even if mentally Steve was so much younger than the senior agent. In a way it was nice to feel a little bit of the power of his reputation still intact, but it also annoyed him slightly. Still, Coulson had been nothing but accommodating and kind in the time they had met and from what little the pair of spies let on, he was damn good at his job.

Steve signed without hesitation as he looked over each card as each one brought up a memory of the past.

"They're a vintage set. Took me years to track them all down," Coulson began to explain with a light smile. "Slight boxing around the edges but near mint condition."

"You've taken good care of them," Steve said with an indulgent smile. He felt like he was back on tour again, not altogether a pleasant feeling, but at least it was almost normal, after a fashion. Steve was about to make a joke about Coulson being a little kid again before he stopped himself and decided on a different course. "You must have really looked up to me. I'm sorry to disappoint."

"You aren't just America's hero, Captain Rogers," Coulson explained seriously in the most earnest voice he had ever allowed himself to speak in. "You are a hero of the people. A lot of people from a lot of places recognized and respected that about you, both then and now. You did more than anyone could have ever asked you to do for your country, for the world. You gave up everything to make sure we lived on and… well we rather failed in response to your sacrifice. I wanted to help make things right again. I wanted to meet your standards and do what you would have done. You inspired a lot of people, Captain, and I know I'm not the only one in this building that has been and continues to be inspired by you. So, don't ever think you're a disappointment, Sir, because you're not and you never will be. I believe as Dr. Erskine did: The world didn't need a good soldier; it needed a _good man_ , like you… I think it still does."

Steve paused partway through his brief task to look up at Coulson and listen, really listen to what the man said. Maybe he had made a difference, but at what cost? Some people, like Phil, wanted to honor his sacrifice and were doing everything in their power to make up for it, to live up to the standards he, Steve, had created with his every word and action during the war. Steve let all of that and far more fill his mind as he signed the last few cards with a proper flourish and a true, genuine smile as he handed them back to Coulson.

"Then it's been my honor to be an inspiration to a good man like you, Phil Coulson."

The pair of men smiled at one another as Phil gratefully took his cards. Steve offered a handshake and Phil gratefully took it as the two men nodded to one another. For a moment, Steve was reminded why he had given it all up, even if right now it still hurt like hell to think about everything and everyone he had lost only to wake up to the world he lived in now. In the kitchen, Natasha was handing over some money to Barton while the pair of them took as many pictures of the moment as they could and began to modify them to send them to just about everyone they could think of.

Maria Hill glanced at her phone to find two pictures of the scene, one clean of any additions, while the second had little cupid's arrows and the words "Unrequited Man Crush!" circling the entire scene. She snorted at the sight and put both in her favorites folder for later reminiscing. Fury looked at his messages to see the same and actually smiled at the sight before he quickly filed it away for later and returned to work.

Back with Steve, Natasha, Clint and Coulson, the four had fallen into an easy conversation as they ate dinner. Steve took his time with it, savoring the moment as it would probably be the last time he saw any of them for a short while. They had given him comfort and stability, for a short time at least, but now that was being taken away again. He would manage, with difficulty he was sure, but he had a lot to catch up on that would keep him busy, so busy he might not even have to really deal with the pain of losing his past and his previous dreams of the future.

Steve did end up escorting them to the hangar though. Along the way, however, he and Coulson drifted back from the pair of spies.

"Your order of materials should be delivered by tomorrow morning. If it doesn't, you can call me here. If you can't reach me, feel free to try for Barton, but I'm not sure Romanoff will be in easy contact given the nature of her mission, so I wouldn't recommend calling her, but here's her number just in case," Phil told him as he handed Steve his card with two more numbers written on the back with the two other agent's names written next to them. Steve gave his thanks and slipped the card into his wallet before Phil continued. "If you don't mind my asking, Captain Rogers, why did you pick some of those resources?"

Steve looked to his fan and companion with a curious look. Coulson didn't want to wheedle intelligence information out of him, the man was simply curious. Steve gave him a closed-mouth wry grin as they continue to walk. There were a number of reasons on Steve's mind, number one being something none of his 21st century companions would be comfortable with if they knew that particular thought. Instead, he gave his second-best reason. "Better to be prepared for anything than not to be. I've got a lot to catch up on and even more to learn beyond that. And please, Phil, call me Steve, you've earned it."

"Fair enough, Steve, but I was rather curious about this particular selection," Coulson replied as he took the list out and pointed to one entry in particular.

Steve let a smile tug at his lips before he shook his head. "I don't like not being in the loop for one… But mostly it's a comfort thing, and a bit of a surprise someday."

Coulson chuckled at that and took out a lighter as they approached the pair of quinjets meant to take them to their destinations. The agent set the list on fire then tossed it into a nearby trashcan, so the evidence of the list was wiped clean. He could take care of the other records after delivery, then it was up to the Captain to keep others from figuring it out if he wanted it kept secret.

"For the surprise," Phil explained, which made Steve chuckle before they shook hands and parted ways.

"Don't forget that if I'm not back in time for Coney Island, you and I are going hunting, Steve," Clint reminded him with another handshake. "But I certainly look forward to an amusement park when I get back."

"I'll have to make sure I can still shoot," Steve teased the archer. "Maybe even try out a bow for my troubles. But I'll be glad to spend the day at the Island as well."

The pair grinned at each-other before Clint and Coulson departed. Steve watched them go, a mixture of wanting to go with them, and wanting to keep them nearby swirled in his gut. It was likely to be a rough few weeks of adjustment without them, or even with them, but they would have made it easier, more comfortable. At least, he hoped they might have. He didn't have much hope for this future, not that he would tell them that. Hell, knowing them they probably already knew.

But as Steve watched them go, he saw the two male agents board their plane and wave back to him, a wave he returned with as much of a grin as he could bear to give them. As he turned his gaze to Romanoff, he saw her standing right next to him with a smirk on her lips. He had thought she was heading to Russia and would be getting on a plane, so why was she hesitating? She spotted him looking at her as she waved to her handler and her best friend and their eyes met in that instant. Her wry grin made him a promise, and he was going to help her keep it if he could. Natasha's eyes, however, spoke to him in such a way he wasn't sure what she was trying to get across to him. No matter what they said, he was captivated by the sight, glad she was making sure he was watching her, that they were saying goodbye in a way that maybe might become their own.

"Surprised I'm still here, Rogers?" she wondered.

"Actually, yeah. I thought you were due for some mission in Russia."

"I was, but apparently I'm needed somewhere more important."

"Oh yeah?" Steve started as he turned to face her completely. "And where's that?"

Natasha's wry grin persisted as she turned to him and pressed a finger on his chest. "Right here. With you."

Steve raised an eyebrow, rather stunned at the change of pace as he looked in her eyes and saw what he could only tell was honesty. "You don't have to stay with me, you know."

"Maybe I want to, ever think of that?" she asked him, though his raised eyebrow only went higher in suspicion. She shrugged in response but continued to grin. "I'm of more use here."

"What makes you say that?" he asked her seriously.

"You," she replied with ease as their eyes met again. "I want to help you, Rogers, because you deserve to have someone here for you after everything that's happened."

"And if I don't want your help?"

"Then suck it up and pull up your skirt, princess, you're getting it whether you like it or not."

Steve actually chuckled at that and shook his head in disbelief. She was something else, something quite unexpected if he was honest with himself. Even so, he supposed she was right, and he did enjoy her company, as much as he enjoyed anyone from the 21st century's company at least. Besides, it did make him feel more safe and secure, having someone he was actually familiar with around instead of being abandoned. He doubted he would have given a damn about anyone after two weeks without one of those three agents around.

Why would he give a damn about a world that didn't have anyone that gave a damn about him as anything more than just some fucking symbol of inspiration?

"Do you actually care?" Steve asked almost bitterly.

"I do, but if you don't believe that answer then I'll say I could learn to," Natasha answered instantly. "If you give me the chance, that is."

Steve hummed in thought at her answer and wondered what was going on in her head. Still, it felt nice, whether he would admit it or not, to have someone watching his back. " _On va voir_ , Romanoff."

" _On va voir,_ Rogers."

Whether he wanted to or not, Steve smiled at that, as did Natasha, he noticed. Their walk back to their shared apartment, quarters, whatever they were was companionable, comfortable even. All the while, Steve wondered if the hope he had inside of him would last with Romanoff at his side until the other two agents got back…

...The quiet, earnest hope that things would truly get better.

 _On va voir… It's time to wake up, soldier, and face your future._


	3. Chapter 3: Meet the Avengers

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. Most of the character interactions I want to do come after the first Avengers movie. This chapter is mostly to get an idea of Steve's thoughts on his encounters, and maybe some of Natasha's as well during the time of the movie itself. Hopefully I did this well.

2\. Some of the following Dialogue belongs to the MCU movies, and I own none of it.

3\. It is still fairly Steve-centric this chapter to avoid making this chapter too long or repetitive. We've all seen Avengers, this is just my take on how Steve might react and be feeling given my brief timeline changes and the issues he is facing.

4\. I'm going to be diverging more from the canon timeline from here on out and will hopefully be able to involve different characters to a broader extent soon.

5\. As always, let me know what you think.

 **Chapter Three: Meet The Avengers**

Catching up with the rest of the world was easier said than done, but with Natasha at his side it was made a lot easier than it would have been if he was alone. She helped him get to the important information he needed, helped guide him to the answers he wanted to find about everything he needed to know. So much history, science, knowledge, war, and all manner of things had come to pass that he wasn't sure he could learn all of it in a lifetime if he tried, let alone the initially planned two weeks that Natasha had mentioned for her mission. Even though that time constraint had been taken away, Steve still tried to meet the challenge of catching up on as much as possible in that time. So instead of such a broad amount of information, he had focused on practical knowledge, economics, geography, and changes in language and technology primarily, but there were other aspects of life he was catching onto.

For instance, the fact not everyone was as polite as they used to be, or as private. Manners had changed a fair bit since his time and he'd had more than one female call him old fashioned, or a gentleman, sometimes in a flattering way, others in challenge. Those that challenged him quickly learned to disabuse themselves of the notion that he was a misogynistic prick, that it was simply the way he had grown up, that he respected women as his equals, and he wouldn't change from being a well-mannered gentleman, even if it was old fashioned.

He was sure Clint would have found it funny if he were there, which surprised the Captain. He had not expected to form attachments, not so soon after learning he wasn't in his own time and everyone he knew was dead, or nearly dead anyways. Steve was grieving, quietly for the most part, but the presence of those three agents had comforted him, to an extent.

Natasha had, however, smirked or chuckled at each-instance when a woman tried to call him out on it. But a few demonstrations around the base of her graciously accepting his actions and most of the agents straightened up. Steve wasn't sure if it was because they feared her, or because they were astounded it might actually work on someone like her, that or the female agents that actually got to be around Steve began to enjoy it and word got around as a result. Still, Natasha's presence and the plans they had made with Clint granted Steve a crutch in this time of crisis.

So, Steve drove himself to learn as much as he could with Natasha's help, when he wasn't people watching the agents around him, or sketching people, places, and all manner of things from his past. Two weeks, two hard weeks had passed by and he felt like he hadn't even made a scratch or dent in everything he knew he had to learn to catch up on, at least as far as culture and history were concerned, though Natasha argued otherwise. Natasha had left two days ago and told him she had to retrieve an asset that they needed for a critical situation, one she looked like she wanted to tell him about but couldn't.

He didn't fault her for that, sometimes people were better off not knowing.

Steve was beginning to think Natasha knew him a little too well, despite having only spent two weeks with him. She had helped him study, helped him learn about anything he asked, made sure he got access to all of his accounts, including a debit card which they had used to make his first cash withdrawal and major purchase. They had gone out and gotten him a beautiful sky-blue Harley with saddlebags, which they had driven around New York, much to HQ's dismay when they sent a retrieval team to get them back.

Natasha had done more than all of those seemingly mundane actions though. She helped him adjust to a lot of things, technology included, but that wasn't the most important thing she had done for him. Steve would never admit it, nor would Natasha, but there were mornings when he found her in his bed or just next to it waking him up from nightmares. He didn't talk about them, she didn't ask. She didn't have to ask because she knew he would tell her when he was ready; because he had accepted her quiet promises the first morning it happened before Clint and Coulson left.

So, when Steve got fed up from time to time he turned a rare few of his nights into sessions of unleashing his frustrations with the present, the horrors of his past, and the pain it all caused him when brought together on the poor punching bags of a gym in New York very close to SHIELD that he had visited every so often. At least, he did that when he didn't take it out by reading more books on what he needed to learn and being a lonesome, closed off bookworm, as one psychiatric agent had called him, after he had refused to allow them access to his sketches anyways.

That's where Nick Fury found him, at the gym pummeling more punching bags, and told him about the imminent crisis they had to face.

"At this point I doubt anything would surprise me," Steve said as he moved to pick up another punching bag.

"Ten bucks says you're wrong," Fury offered in a nearly deadpan voice. "There's a debriefing packet waiting for you back at your apartment... Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that you think we ought to know now?"

"You should have left it in the ocean!" Steve almost growled as he carried a bag over his shoulder and the file in his other hand.

"Steve." The Soldier gave pause and sighed before he looked back at Fury, whose grave features were even more stern than usual. "They have Barton… He's been compromised by some sort of magical energy that affected his mind and turned him to the other side. I thought you ought to hear it from me."

Steve's features hardened. Fuck with the tesseract? Fine, he could deal with that. His war wasn't anywhere near finished yet, not until he was sure that thing couldn't harm anyone else. He was still cleaning up the world's messes even so many years later, or days to him, but it was needed, even if he began to hate that he was being used to do it. Why SHIELD had the tesseract and didn't let him know, that just reeked of bad things to come.

But to take a man's mind, twist him about and turn him against what they stood for, against their friends and allies? Loki had earned himself more than a few punches for that. Steve didn't know Barton well, but as one of the two people he even remotely knew in this time, besides Peggy who he had yet to visit, Steve would make sure getting him back was top priority.

It felt wrong, that Natasha hadn't told him, but he guessed she knew what he would have done. He would have insisted they go after him, insisted they hunt the son of a bitch responsible down and make him pay for turning Barton against his friends and organization. He would have moved heaven, hell and earth to make sure they got Barton back, because he meant a great deal to Natasha, and because, Steve noted in the raging storm inside him, Clint meant something to him as well, despite their time together being even more brief than his time with Natasha. The odd check-in call here and there they had with Clint and Coulson while they were on assignment was nice, and they had shared a few stories here and there, which endeared the archer to the soldier.

"Then I'll just have to bring Clint back, Fury. No man left behind, least of all a good man like him."

Steve never saw it, but Nick actually smirked at that before he followed the soldier out.

The trip out to the carrier was nothing new, but Steve was glad to reunite with Coulson, someone else he was familiar with. Steve had blown off other agents, uncomfortable with them when they tried to get him to talk things out when they visited him and Natasha. He learned from Phil they were trained therapists, psychiatrists and the like meant to help him. He had kept each and every single one of them from prying into his belongings, studies, and sketches though. They had no right to invade his privacy, and he made sure they knew that each time he threw one of them out. Natasha had a riot each time it happened and exulted in his commanding presence as he sent the nosey agents packing.

"You'd think they would have learned after the first one, especially once Romanoff warned them I wouldn't let them," Steve complained idly after having finished the reports on the last of the individuals he was given a file on. The datapad had been an interesting experience, but Steve was glad he had focused at least a little on technology during the past two weeks. He wasn't inept anymore, but he did need a little guidance still. Phil had made it easy and Steve handled the datapad quite well after the first few minutes. His ignorance of the 21st century and its technology would change quickly, given his learning curve.

"They're just trying to help," Phil tried to assure him.

"Then they can try to help someone else," Steve answered with ease as he leaned back in his seat. "I'm barely comfortable with you and Barton despite your phone calls every other day to check in, and Romanoff has been good to me. I'm not letting anyone else in, no offense."

"None taken. I'm honored to be on the list, Steve," Coulson replied with a light smile. "But for now, we have bigger fish to fry."

"Getting Barton and the tesseract back while making sure this false god Loki takes a turn for the worst," Steve agreed handily. "I'm all for it."

Minutes later they arrived at the carrier, and almost as soon as he stepped out, Steve saw her. Red hair to put the deepest fires of war and the vice-filed lights of Vegas to shame, green eyes to make grass look pale, and a body that had all the right curves and muscles to make men throw all restraint out the window, topped with a face that would make angels jealous. Steve had to catch his breath for a moment upon seeing her again before he stuffed those emotions down. As he approached he shook her hand just as they had the day they met.

"Romanoff, good to see you again."

"You too, Rogers," she responded with a smile. "Sorry to bring you so far out of New York. Looks like Coney Island is on hold for a short while longer."

"It should be worth the rain check then." Natasha smiled again, and Steve found himself returning it. He didn't know if it was her presence, her personality, or if she was just following a mission and only trying to help him because of orders, but it still made him feel a little better that she was there. "How's the situation with Barton?"

"On the lam with Loki, but we'll get him back. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," she assured him. Steve waved off her apology with a smile and gave her a firm nod. He understood, and she knew him well enough to receive the message with grace that he didn't hold it against her, and that he knew why she had done it outside of any orders she might have been given. They shared another nod before they approached a slightly skittish looking man. "Captain Rogers, this is Dr. Bruce Banner."

As far as introductions went, Steve didn't mind this one. Bruce was blunt and Steve rather liked that up-front nature about him, even if the doctor tried to be a little more soft-spoken in his directness. Steve tried to make him comfortable in his presence and for a moment it seemed to work as they made their way inside. Steve was still worried about Bruce getting compromised and the green rage monster paying them a visit, but he didn't let it show. Instead he treated Bruce like he would any other dangerous person he met from World War II, like a soldier worthy of respect, and a Doctor to boot.

The carrier changing into a flying fortress was something that surprised Steve, and he knew he had lost ten bucks to Fury well before he got inside the helicarrier. As they reached the bridge, however, Steve was surprised again, this time by Natasha. She looked back at him, a teasing smirk on her lips, her gait confident and powerful, but her eyes spoke to him like they tried to back when they first met, when he didn't quite understand her body language nearly as well back then.

She was comforting him, asking him if he was alright as Steve Rogers the man, not Captain America, and asking for some comfort and reassurance that they would be successful in retrieving Clint herself. It was subtle, so much so he almost missed it, but it was there. Of course, her smirk only increased when, after he nodded to her, he looked away from her eyes and gazed- glanced, at the general vicinity of her long legs and finely shaped hips and rear before their eyes met again. He bet she would have laughed at him if they were in private before she parted ways to check on news about Barton.

As Steve made his way toward Fury, he knew what surprise he was paying him the ten bucks for: Natasha, but Fury didn't need to know that, no-one did.

Soon enough they got a hit on Loki and Steve was ordered to suit up. His conversation with Coulson on the subject had been brief, but as he saw the suit, he saw it was definitely an homage to his classic suit from the USO tour rather than the uniform Howard Stark had provided. A knot twisted itself in his gut on whether or not he wanted to don it. He had known nothing but war, or supporting the war effort, for at least five years before he went into the ice and came out into a quagmire of a world mired in conflict, especially things only science fiction writers could have thought up in his day and age.

Was it worth it, to suit up again and commit himself to another war? Part of him definitely felt that his war simply wasn't finished yet and he had to see it through to the end, but he wasn't so sure. Hadn't he earned a reprieve? Hadn't he given up everything to save the world once already? Was he prepared to do it again? Did he want to spend the rest of his life wrapped up in war and conflict, cleaning up the mess the world had made of itself time and again? Didn't he want to do something with his life besides all of this?

All he had in this world was the estate that had been created for him and his "identity" as Captain America to everyone in this world. No-one in this time, in this world, knew Steve for who he really was, except for Peggy who might not even remember him for much longer. Maybe Natasha, Clint and Coulson recognized him as Steve, but he couldn't be a hundred percent sure. He had to start from scratch, and he wasn't sure this was the right way to do it. His feelings of duty, his hatred of bullies, and his desires to free Barton and see the tesseract destroyed or recovered and locked away pushed back against his doubts. However, it was something else entirely that gripped him and made the decision for him.

"All of you believed I was a good man," Steve murmured to himself as he thought of everyone he had already lost. "And all it takes for evil to win is for good men to stand aside and do nothing… One more time, for all of you. I'm going to finish this fight and I'll be damned if I fail in bringing Barton back where he belongs…"

Steve sighed and the next words were so quiet he barely heard them himself. "And because I need to protect what I've been given even if I didn't want it: A second life, a second chance, and Barton, Coulson and Romanoff are a part of that now."

At the door to his changing room, Natasha watched, waited, and listened for any sign of Steve getting ready. It took longer than she suspected, and he was so quiet she actually eased the door open just enough to get a look at him. He was standing before the suit behind its sturdy glass-paned door and his reflection bore an expression of deep thought, of warring emotions, of doubt and questions unanswered. She was about to enter and try to give him a push when she heard him speak. She stopped herself immediately and listened, really listened to what he said, though she missed what he murmured under his breath, even with her version of serum-enhanced senses.

She was proud of him for making the right decision, for deciding to fight, but it worried her as much as it touched her. He was going to finish this fight, a fight he felt was his, but what then? Would him being a good man keep him abiding by that quote that left his lips if he was ever asked to enter another conflict? Natasha wasn't so sure, and she wasn't at all certain she wanted him to keep fighting if he really didn't want to. To not put your heart into fighting, to not give your all, could get you and countless others killed. But he had made his choice, he was putting everything he was into this fight, one more time, and maybe in the future he would again if he found something to fight for.

 _But what will he fight for if this isn't a one-time thing? This isn't his time or his world anymore. He has nothing but his name, fame, and money left. That might be enough for Stark, even if Tony also fights to keep Pepper safe and because it's the right thing to do, but for Rogers? I know he said he'd bring Clint back, but will Steve really keep fighting for Clint and I, or Coulson or anyone else?_ Natasha's thoughts worried her. His ideals might be out of place in the world today, black and white compared to the grey she and the rest of the world had adopted so long ago, had thrived in while he remained in his starkly contrasting ways. Even so, only time would tell and maybe he would find his way again by saving the world one more time. Either way, she was grateful Clint was one of his top priorities.

When he exited with his suit and shield, Natasha smiled up at him. "That looks good on you."

"A bit old-fashioned by today's standards, though."

"Sometimes old-fashioned is a good thing," Natasha commented as they walked toward the hangar. "Just like you're an old-fashioned good man."

She must have said the right thing, because Steve nodded with more certainty than he had seemed to feel mere minutes ago. She even thought she caught a glimmer of a twitch of a smile at his lips before they moved on. He checked his utility belt and Natasha could tell he didn't feel like he was fully ready. Then again, he wasn't going into a warzone, he was going to help civilians and apprehend a madman claiming to be a god on a power trip that had taken her friend, possibly _their_ friend.

The fight with Loki was one of the worst Steve had ever fought. He had his ass kicked around the courtyard by someone so much stronger than him. If he were honest with himself, he felt like that little guy back in Brooklyn fighting a bully… and it was all he needed to open up on the son of a bitch and try to bring him down with everything he had. Of course, that fight ended shortly after he had cut loose thanks to the intervention of one Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man.

Loki's easy surrender bugged Steve, not because he hadn't been able to accomplish it on his own, but because it didn't fit with what he knew or suspected of this supposed god from Norse mythology. It had been far too quick. One blast from Iron Man and the supposed god called it quits? Numbers might not have been in the man's favor, but from reports they hadn't been back at the tesseract facility either. It didn't fit right, and Steve knew he was going to push himself to figure out why before it came back to bite them in the ass if at all possible.

Tony Stark was altogether a lot like his father, and so much different. Perhaps it was the time gap and environment they were surrounded in, Steve wasn't sure. In any case, Stark's arrogance grated on Steve's nerves and the man loved to joke far too much, especially in ways that Steve felt were rather disrespectful. If Tony hadn't been in a suit of armor, Steve might have pushed him for reminding him of his frozen tenure with such a dismissive and insensitive nickname that reminded him of so much pain and all the absences he had to face every day living in a century he wasn't from, a century he wasn't altogether fond of if he was honest with himself.

He had been denied reaching out to Stark by the agents at the New York SHIELD base, citing his existence was classified still, but Steve had learned plenty from the files he had been given, and a few anecdotes from Natasha about him. He was relieved they hadn't met sooner after this encounter, but still rather disappointed with the outcome altogether. The soldier sensed some brief tension between them, as if Stark didn't like him for some unknowable reason, but Steve put it aside to the man's arrogance for the time being. Steve would learn more about him later, he was sure, because Tony Stark didn't seem to have an off button, or a filter for that matter.

Thor? What to say about Thor besides the brash and bold god of thunder certainly looked for a fight when it wasn't needed? Stark was much the same, being so confrontational upon first meeting, and they were certainly a handful. When Steve entered the fray to try and calm them down and talk things out, well, it had certainly been a thunderous occasion. Not for the first nor last time did Steve thank Howard for such an amazing shield to protect him and countless others.

Later, when Thor had told his story of what had happened and his history with Loki, Steve began to understand the Norse God a bit more. The man was fighting his brother in order to get his brother back, as well as to protect the people of earth. Steve could identify with that, because he had done something so very similar when he briefly went AWOL to liberate the 107th from a Hydra base in the hopes of saving those men and confirming if his friend and brother in all but blood, Bucky Barnes, was still alive, which thankfully he had been. Thor faced a difficult conflict with his brother, and he had made it his mission to see things put to right no matter the cost to himself.

Steve could respect that, and he found he respected Thor as more than a possibly allied combatant because of that.

Afterwards, however, Murphy and his damnable Law decided to pay them one hell of a visit. Something about SHIELD hadn't felt right, especially after he learned about the tesseract, and he had to go searching for himself to find out what after his tense conversation with Banner and Stark about motives and possible operations, which unfortunately made all too much sense. What he found sickened him, HYDRA weaponry, and he thought his war was about to get a whole lot bigger and more personal because of it.

Anger that had been contained and bottled up by decades of ice and control both before and during the war boiled beneath the surface faster than Steve ever believed possible, so much so it felt out of place. He tried to fight it but the limited release he got from rightfully confronting everyone around him about what was going on felt too good to resist for that time. The argument that followed was more a strict debate about power, threats, control, morals and all manner of things before it began to devolve.

"Everything special about you came out of a bottle!"

Stark's harsh statement woke the sleeping giant in Steve, because that was too close to home, even if he knew it wasn't true, in a way. In fact, Steve felt the anger wash away, and in its place a confident bit of spite and spunk reared its head like it had back in 1945 when he was face-to-face with another man that had questioned what made him so special.

"Maybe so, Stark, but I don't think there's anything special about me," Steve told him with a smirk. "I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."

That fucking kid from Brooklyn, all 90lbs of defiant " _on va voir_ " was still alive and well, and always would be. Captain America or not, he was always going to be Steve Rogers, even if none of these people saw that about him. He was a fighter, but also an artist. He was insecure about himself, uncertain of his prospects with women of any era, but he was so stubborn the devil wouldn't dare get in his way if he set his mind to it. He was kind and compassionate, he thought about the person first and the threat second, and he would always be willing to lend a hand where one was needed.

That's what made him special in the eyes of those that thought him a good man, in the hearts and minds of those that decided to make him Captain America. He doubted he ever amounted to anything close to the word "special". He never thought of himself that way. He was just a kid from Brooklyn that was allowed to do the right thing for the right reasons, with the help of a scientist and a friend. He never put himself first, and that, perhaps, was his biggest problem.

Stark stood there a moment, stunned out of whatever angry tirade he'd been about to go on as he looked at Steve. That wasn't an answer he had expected, in fact it was an answer none of them expected as he seemed to have caught the entire room's attention with that. Natasha's gaze met his, and Steve offered a brief shrug, knowing he had just thrown every thought and insult Stark had about him right back in his face and out the window. Natasha's gaze told him she saw what was underneath his statement, that she knew what he meant, that she saw him for who he was, and smirked at him briefly before the argument continued in a new form, especially from Banner.

The following hell-storm wasn't all bad, however. Despite fighting for his life and the lives of a thousand or more crewmen, Steve learned about everyone that had been brought to handle the threat of Loki. Stark really did care and he would put himself on the line to fix a problem that he knew he could fix. He would work as a team and educate those that didn't know what to do so they could do their part. Steve doubted he would ever enjoy or fully study and understand electrical engineering on the scale of the helicarrier, but to be able to handle breakers, change relays, and create buffers with Tony's guidance, that could come in handy, though Steve much preferred the electrical workings of a car he could hotwire any day.

Thor would put himself out there to keep others safe from a rampaging Hulk and do his best to stop his brother if it came to it. They lost him to god only knew where and he wasn't the only one they lost. Banner's breathtaking anger management issues, as Stark loved to put it, were a terrifying sight, especially when activated unintentionally. Even so, the troubled man had gotten away from the rest of the carrier before he could do more damage, though Steve wasn't sure if that was intentional or just the rage monster taking out its issues on the hovering jet outside; who was he to judge?

Romanoff had tried to keep Banner calm, to keep him level and in control, and survived even as she steered Hulk away from others. Then she went on to stop Barton from making even more terrible mistakes and brought him back to the fold, hopefully. But even if they recovered Barton, they lost someone else.

"Agent Coulson is down." Steve lost his breath as he heard the words play over comms. He barely heard about the medical team being dispatched before Fury continued. "They're here… They called it."

Steve leaned against the broken railing he was near at the very edge of the carrier. He didn't dare look over at Tony as he thought of the kind, almost unassuming agent that had been one of three people he had begun to like and be comfortable around in this century. He had lost another soldier, a friend, someone that looked up to him, and he couldn't have done anything differently to change that.

Fury's talk on the bridge wasn't what Steve wanted to hear. He had lost men in the past and knew how badly it hurt, even if you didn't know them well. These were men and women you had to trust with your life in the battlefield, and that kinship, however brief, had still formed between them. Coulson was a comrade, a man of like mind to himself, a man that had made him feel wanted in this time for however brief he had been here.

And he was gone.

"They called it the Avengers Initiative," Fury said, and went on to explain what it was. "Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea… In Heroes." Stark left the table, but Steve remained as Fury stood nearby and folded his hands behind his back as they watched him go. "Well, it was an old-fashioned idea."

"One I believe Phil fulfilled himself more than anyone else," Steve answered him quietly. "He was a good man and a hero in his own right."

Nick turned to him, a mournful expression on his face before his lips twitched lightly. "He would have been honored to hear that from you, Captain."

"He earned it," Steve said as he looked at the colonel. "He was a hero, to everyone. He deserves to be on cards like the ones I signed for him, and he'll never get to sign them. Even if Phil didn't bring Loki down, he made the ultimate sacrifice… We could do no less to honor him."

"Coulson wouldn't want us to sacrifice ourselves, Cap," Nick countered quickly.

"I know," Steve cut him off with a smile. "He'd want us to band together, and win doing it." Steve stood and rounded the table. "I'm going to go after Stark. See how he's doing and see if we can figure out Loki's plan, together…"

Nick nodded solemnly to the captain as he passed, but as soon as he was gone the man let out a light sigh.

Maria Hill approach him, her steps easy but controlled. Her stoic features were even more stony than usual, but her eyes softened as she watched the Captain leave the bridge. "Colonel, you know they're going to find out. One way or another, Rogers, Romanoff and Barton at least are going to figure things out."

"I know that and it won't matter unless we survive this," Fury stated slowly, almost regretfully. "But they needed the push."

Maria remained silent for a few moments, before a smile quirked her lips. "Coulson was right… I like him."

"Do we need Romanoff and Barton to put another Unrequited Crush pic out there, Hill?"

She snorted lightly as she shook her head. "No sir, but I do respect him. And if Rogers can lead them like you expect him to, I'll believe in him too."

The talk with Stark was different than what Steve expected, but he got some expected reactions. Steve found himself agreeing with Stark on many points, almost like a heart to heart. When they were going into what happened with Loki and how to stop him, Stark was struck with a stroke of brilliance. For all that Steve hated the arrogance behind the title, Stark really was a _Genius_ , Billionaire, Playboy Philanthropist. With the plan figured out, Steve went to get the rest of the team while Tony went to fix his suit. They knew where they were headed, and it was time to suit up.

Retrieving Romanoff was expected, but to see Barton wasn't. He knew the pair were like himself and Bucky, but he still had concerns about Barton's mental health. At Romanoff's nod, however, he knew it was time to make or break trust with Clint, Natasha, and perhaps their efforts to save their world. Romanoff trusted Barton, and Steve trusted both of them in that moment, if for nothing else than to help save the world…

 _And maybe to help me find my way forward, if I'm really given the chance after this._

It was a quiet sentiment, barely acknowledged openly beside a simple nod of the head, but Steve could see how it affected Clint when his shoulders minutely sagged in relief and his eyes brightened, and in Natasha when a wry grin slipped across her features. They had no time to get into a long talk about feelings right then. In fact, Steve wasn't even sure he could voice his trust in them aloud just yet. Sure, he could trust them as fellow soldiers, spies, agents in the cause for what was right, but with everything? Trust like that took time, and right now they were the two people he had conversed with the most, that he was most comfortable around, and wasn't that telling? The two people closest to him from this century were spies, people who on principle didn't trust easily, or in some cases didn't trust at all.

"You know, an alien invasion doesn't get you two off the hook. You still owe me a day at Coney Island, or that hunting trip," Steve mentioned with a casual smile as the three of them began to arm themselves with whatever they could carry and take into battle with ease. "Just a little reminder for you, Barton, you know, after that cognitive recalibration Romanoff put you through. Thought it might have knocked a screw loose… or looser in your case."

Clint echoed the grin a second later. "Consider the screw tightened back in then, courtesy of Russian compassion." Clint's grin met Natasha's smirk as she rolled her eyes, and Steve chuckled. "But you're not wrong. Let's save the world so we can go do that, Cap. Can't wait to hunt with you, if I'm honest."

"Ugh, men and their manly hunting activities," Romanoff put in with the same smirk from before, as both Clint and Steve chuckled in response. "We're still on for Coney Island, right?"

"Only if you keep me alive, Romanoff," Steve answered, smiling at her.

Steve missed the shared glance between the two spies as he turned away. That comment concerned them, even if it had come out like a joke. Steve had very little to lose in this fight, and that could make him reckless, dangerous even, but they doubted he was that suicidal just yet. Even so, they realized how special the Captain was as he prepared himself for another war after barely making it out of the one he was meant for. After he put his shield on his back with the harness, the first thing he put on was a medkit to the back of his belt, something that astounded both spies and comforted them all the same. Unlike in Stuttgart, the Captain armed himself to the teeth. He put a gun into his new holster, almost a dozen clips of ammo in his belt, and that was before the half-dozen or more grenades and other utilities he managed to carry without looking like a walking armory.

"A bit much, don't you think?" Natasha teased him lightly.

"If Loki brings his army from space through, a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say let alone twice in one day, then I'm going to be ready for them," Steve said as he checked over his gear one last time. "I may have chosen a shield as my signature weapon for a reason, because I want to protect people, to keep them safe, and I may not like guns and grenades as much as other soldiers, but they serve a purpose. War is coming, and I'm nothing if not ready for war."

"Yeah," Natasha murmured in a soft, almost worried tone to Clint when she thought Steve couldn't hear her anymore when he left the room. "Because I don't think you ever left it, Rogers."

Steve, however, did hear her out in the hall. She wasn't wrong, after a fashion. Two and a half weeks, mentally at least, wasn't a long time to be away from the front, even if reality had taken 70 years from him. This war was still his, in a way, and he was going to end it with their help. He could tell they were worried about him, especially after a comment like that, but he was determined to see this through and to actually go on those trips with the two of them.

The next hour was harrowing to say the least, most of all the crash they experienced. Steve briefly flashed back to crashing in the ice and braced himself as best he could. But when Clint got them on the ground, all three were alive and ready to face the coming battle. As the boarding ramp lowered, Steve looked to the other two.

"For Phil."

Two nods answered him and before he knew it the war was on.

His first kills of the day were with a grenade in the midst of a charging force. It tore them to shreds and the familiar feel of took hold of him. He danced around their answering fire, only to see an arrow speed over one shoulder, and bullets fly past the other as his team took the fight to the Chitauri. They fought their way down the road, each time getting one step closer to breaking the enemy line before they took cover and heard the screams of civilians.

Steve looked to the others, and Natasha knew what was going through his mind.

"Go on, go! We can handle things here," she told him confidently, and Clint nodded beside her as they fought and prepared to help the civilians. Steve nodded and hid the smile that formed on his face. Strong, loyal, intelligent, intuitive and compassionate; Natasha just kept getting better and better, and so did Clint as Steve watched him break the window of a bus to help the civilians escape.

Steve rushed across the field, dodging the hail-fire of lasers from above as he made his way toward the police line to hand them orders. They needed to contain this battle, and soon enough Steve had earned the police's trust and dare he say their admiration, when he protected them from the Chitauri forces after giving them orders. As soon as his orders were followed, he bolted back toward the battle with another grenade at the ready. He tossed the grenade in the air at the last second and heard the alien screams of anguish as they were blown up and torn to shreds as they flew overhead and crashed not so far away. It didn't take him long to reach the two agents, and with another grenade toss he watched as a set of three chitauri flying chariots were destroyed.

"Who needs mortars when you've got an arm like that?!" Clint teased as he fired an explosive arrow, matching the captain's feat from moments before with one of his own.

"It was every kid from Brooklyn's dream to pitch for the Dodgers back in my day," Steve answered as he threw his shield and killed another four aliens before it bounced back to him, just as he planned. "Guess I'm a little late, since they're in Los Angeles now."

"You'll put carnival games out of business though," the archer tossed right back as he stabbed one chitauri with an arrow then shot it into another.

"Oh good, I'll be happy to take some enormous teddy bears from Coney Island home with me when we get there," Natasha called out as she laid out an entire line of chitauri warriors into a pile of dead bodies with seamless, easy gunfire from her Glock 26 pistols. "I have the perfect corner for them in my bedroom."

" _Are you seriously discussing carnival games right now?!_ " Tony incredulously asked over comms. " _Cause I'm game for anything to do with exploiting the laws of physics to get almost-free stuff. Also, you gotta love their Coney dogs, All-American goodness right there, eh Cap?_ "

"Good food is good food no matter where you get it from, but yeah, I do miss my good old American food from time to time. You know, Howard gave me his physics books once when he saw me practicing with my shield," Steve chimed back with a small smile on his face as he destroyed the skull of another Chitauri. "He was kinda pissed I wrote my own notes in the margins detailing how to win at pool in one or two shots, along with a bunch of trick-shot applications. He could hardly believe it later on when he saw me bounce my shield off of seven enemies in the midst of a war zone before having it return to me so I could pound someone else into the ground."

" _Well I'll be damned! That was you?! I learned those pool tricks from your notes in those old books of Howard's,_ " Tony griped as he sent another volley of missiles at an incoming wave and watched them all burn and tear themselves apart in the ensuing explosions. " _Looks like I owe you a few drinks, Captain._ "

"I had to learn quick, so I could keep the Howlies paying their own tabs instead of mooching off me and my movie residuals all of the time. I'll take Irish whiskey if you've got it," Steve answered him quickly as he threw his shield once more and finally fired his gun, emptying the clip into another line of chitauri before he reloaded and caught his shield after it had broken the necks of five other aliens. "Or Augsburg schnapps."

"Can a girl get some Stolichnaya vodka after we're done here?" Romanoff cut in as she electrocuted one chitauri that got too close with her Widow's Bite, before she leaped onto another and snapped its neck with her thighs as she twisted around its head and landed on her feet a moment later.

" _Open bar at my place, if we survive this,_ " Stark informed them as he went on another chase after the alien invaders.

"I'll hold you to it," Clint told him as he fired another hail-fire arrow and took out another group of invaders as the arrow fired bullets all around it. "I like little umbrellas in my drinks."

The easy banter was welcome amidst the fight, even if Steve preferred to concentrate completely on what was going on. To hear everyone banter back and forth as they fought, he felt it bring them more and more together as a team. They matched one another's actions, filled in the missing pieces and began to work like a well-oiled machine, as if they had been doing it for months, years. For a moment, Steve felt he really was back with his commandos again until he realized it was something altogether bigger than that.

What better cause did he have than defending New York from aliens beside a bunch of misfits looking for equals and a home to fight for?

The battle raged on, and even when Banner joined them he just seemed to fit in amongst them. Steve actually had some limited pull with the Hulk, he noticed. Whether it was Banner's respect, or the Hulk's instinct that recognized a worthy warrior and ally, he didn't know, all he knew was he was glad he could direct the Hulk's rage onto the enemy where they needed it most. But again, Steve felt them come together, felt them fall into place as he examined their abilities and found how to bring them all together and make them into an army unto themselves.

And it felt right!

Steve clubbed one chitauri to death with the butt of his pistol when he finally ran out of ammo before he continued fighting as he tossed it aside. Unable to keep the enemy at range any longer, he and Natasha fought side by side and back to back against the alien invaders. It was almost perfect, he found. For every strike he'd make to beat one to death, she'd slide around him to take out another, or flip off his back to break the neck of another enemy with a harsh kick across the face. Every time she disabled one enemy, he finished them off with one last hit, or they would move in tandem just by reading each-other's body language. They complimented one another on the field of battle like he had never felt another person do with him before.

They both took up Chitauri weapons that had fallen and sent volley after volley at every chance they had before tossing the weapons away or slicing into the enemy at every opportunity. Natasha electrocuted another chitauri and took their weapon before shooting them. She spun about with the spear at the ready as he landed near her once again. She panted in exertion as she found relief and safety in his presence for a few moments.

"Captain, none of this is gonna mean a thing if we don't close that portal."

"Those guns couldn't touch it."

"Well maybe it's not about guns," she suggested.

Steve stared at her, curious and inspired by that as he watched her think it through before more chitauri lined up to head their way. "Wanna get up there, you're gonna need a ride."

"I got a ride," she answered as she looked over their shoulders and moved toward the bridge rail. "I could use a boost though."

Steve caught on to what she meant and began to time things out in his head as he backed up and had his shield at the ready. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah, it's gonna be fun."

And with those words, Natasha cemented herself as Steve's favorite person of the 21st century. As she ran toward him, leaped to the car, then to and off his shield when he gave her a boost, he had to hide another smile. She was beautiful, graceful, and despite all the pain he had faced in recent weeks, and would no doubt face in the future, she smoothed off a few rough edges. As she caught hold of the vessel and twisted about to begin taking it over, Steve's smile remained.

 _She sure is incredible._

Blue beams flying by his head brought Steve back into the fight, and without hesitation he rushed in against the Chitauri to keep them fighting him instead of seeking out civilians. The battle continued, New York choked on smoke from all the explosions, but still the aliens came, and the Avengers fought with their all.

Steve managed to use his last grenade to take down one of those enormous monstrosities. One grenade to the mouth was all it took, and it fell from the sky and crushed a platoon of Chitauri beneath it. Still he fought on, one engagement after the other, chanting "one more wave" and "one more fight" as he continued to bring the aliens the fight they asked for by challenging earth to war.

When Tony called out that he had a nuke coming in after Steve told Natasha to close the portal, Steve realized just what might happen.

"Stark, that's a one-way trip!"

" _Yeah, well… someone's gotta do it._ "

So, Steve watched as one of the bravest men he ever met pushed a nuclear weapon with everything he had into the portal to try and end this fight for good. They saw the explosion rippling on the other side, but nothing else. Steve sighed, ready to honor Stark's sacrifice and recognize that the genius was a good man as well, in his own way, even funny, though Steve would rarely admit it if he could help it. It felt like a lung just got ripped out as he told Romanoff to close it…

Only for Stark to fall through right at the last second.

The next minute flooded Steve with panic and dread as he tried to get a response out of Tony once the Hulk saved him from his fall. He had checked his pulse, frantically looked for a way to open up his armor before he was about to resort to mouth to mouth or a shot of adrenaline from his medkit. Banner, however, took care of that with an almighty roar that woke Stark up. Steve laughed in relief, and again at Tony's word-vomit about getting Shawarma. It was a hell of a fight, but it was finally over.

The last confrontation with Loki was rather simple. He came in quietly, was bound by the strongest shackles Stark had at his disposal, along with a rather high-tech muzzle, and they put him in a nice, deep dark corner of Stark tower that Steve hadn't anticipated would exist. The tesseract was also put in a containment field, which they would modify for Thor so he could take it back to Asgard in short order.

Before any of the avengers could argue, however, Stark dragged them down to the Shawarma restaurant and had them eat. Steve wasn't all that hungry but ordered and ate one serving to be polite before he just sat there. The quiet of that time was almost funny, if it wasn't for the fact they had all been through hell and saved New York, and the rest of the world, not thirty minutes ago. They were tired, worn out, and not in the mood for partying just then. Steve had seen it before, the quiet comfort among soldiers over a job well done just after it was accomplished. Later they would celebrate, of that he was sure, but for now they would just take in the moment and appreciate being alive to see it.

They decided to stay at Stark Tower for the evening to patch themselves up, and eventually meet Pepper Potts who, upon learning of Tony's near-fatal sacrifice, had torn him a new one before she proceeded to devour his mouth in a way that had Steve raising his eyebrows. Clint had made an indecent gesture behind their backs and Steve had to hold back a snort as he and the spy held onto that joke between themselves, along with the ever-watchful Natasha. She, however, made another gesture, right near her mouth, that had Steve spluttering his drink back into his glass before he cleared his throat, as if to break up the amorous couple, which worked much to Tony's chagrin, Steve noticed with some amusement. When Pepper finally got around to being introduced, her jaw dropped upon seeing and meeting him, which to him was par for the course, even with SHIELD agents. She had respected his boundaries, though, and quickly seemed to get over any childhood instilled hero-worship… mostly.

When the next day came, they all had plans in the works. Each of them prepared to leave and go their separate ways, well, mostly separate. Thor took Loki back to Asgard with the tesseract in its modified containment vessel. Bruce and Tony would head back to Stark Tower to work on they only knew what. The pair of scientists had bonded and would probably stick together, for a while at least. SHIELD promised to stay out of everyone's hair, but they all knew eventually Fury would come calling, especially for Natasha, Clint and Steve.

"You could come with us, you know," Clint offered Steve quietly as they walked toward Natasha's corvette. "You've earned some R&R away from the city and the rest of this century's issues and complications. Once we're back we can go to Coney Island like we promised, but I've got somewhere even better lined up."

"I don't even know where you two are going," Steve thought aloud as they stopped near the car and chatted for a few more moments.

"Someplace quiet. Someplace safe away from all of this," Clint vaguely explained with a wave of his hand all around them. "I go there when I need time to recharge, and so does Natasha. It's rather homey."

"I think you'd like it," Natasha told him with a smile. "It's a really nice place where we can just be ourselves without any expectations."

Steve returned it with one of his own but shook his head. "I'm sure I would love it, but I have somewhere else I need to be… I need to see an old friend, and it's something I need to do by myself."

The spies got the hint. He was going to face his past, or the last bit of it still alive in this century. It was something he had to do, something that he needed to do if he was to live in this day and age. It had to happen if he was to keep moving forward, otherwise he would always regret it. Peggy Carter was his last connection to the world he knew, and he deserved some closure if he could find it.

"I can't argue with that," Clint agreed solemnly. Instead of the formal handshake, the archer hugged Steve and the soldier slowly returned it. "Thanks, for giving me a chance and trusting me when it mattered most. Just say the word and I'll come and bring you where we're headed. If it's too much for you in D.C., don't be afraid to call."

"Thank you for believing in me," Steve whispered to the man right back. "But I think I'll be okay. Maybe another time."

Clint smiled at him and the pair shared a nod before they parted. Clint let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, both saddened and glad the captain wasn't coming with them. It was a secret he was forced to keep from everyone and letting someone in to see it was never easy. The Captain had earned it though, and in such a short time too. Natasha had been the same, and Clint had hoped it might give Steve a bit of stability. But this decision was Steve's, and Clint could see how settling things with his past was more important for Steve right now than bonding further with his future and the people that would be a part of it.

"You still have time to change your mind and come with us," Natasha murmured to Steve as she stood in front of him. "Only people Clint really trusts can go there, and he must really like you if he's offering to take you there. He did the same thing with me."

"You know how to tempt me, Natasha," Steve said as he glanced from her to Clint and back again. "But I can't. I have to see Peggy and figure things out. I can't… I won't put it off forever."

"I know," Natasha replied gently as she held his arm in a comforting grip. "Just… don't get caught up in holding onto your past, alright? It could hurt you more than you think…"

"Speaking from experience?" Steve wondered quietly as he gazed in Natasha's jade eyes. For a moment she was open to him, as brief as it was, but in the next she closed off that access and offered one of her damned, casual shrugs.

"I could be, you'd have to take time to get to know me a bit better to find that out," she answered with that contagious smirk of hers. Steve shook his head and before he knew it he was wrapped up in a hug from Natasha, one he gladly returned as he felt her hidden warmth wash over him. "Just be careful and try not to let the hurt take a hold of you. If you need help, we're just a phone-call away."

"Thank you, Natasha," Steve told her as they pulled apart and their eyes met once more. "But I think… I think I'll be alright. You enjoy your vacation with Clint, wherever it is you're going, and when we all get back we'll make good on our plans."

"I wouldn't miss it, Rogers."

"Me neither, Steve," Clint said from the side. "But I also think its high time for all of us to get moving."

"You two take care, and try not to speed everywhere you go," Steve told them as both spies got in the car.

"Hey!" Clint barked out the window lightly. "The same goes for you, Mr. I-Don't-Need-A-Helmet!"

The three laughed lightly as they parted. As Steve mounted his bike, the two spies were pulling away and driving off in a roar of the car's engine. He shook his head at the pair, knowing full well they did it just to get a rise out of him. In return, he brought his motorcycle to a roaring start and booked it out of New York as fast as he could, heading ever further south.

The closer Steve got to his destination, the more he felt his hands sweat. He stopped at a single store to buy flowers once he reached the city and slowly made his way to the place he couldn't wait to be at, and dreaded approaching all at once. Of all the truths he had to face about what happened to everyone and everything from his past, this was the hardest. In fact, if he was honest with himself, it was the hardest because she was still alive. Each step inside felt like his boots had been filled with lead, but when he reached the counter he put on a gentle smile for the attendant.

"Excuse me, miss, I'm looking for Peggy Carter."

The attendant only had to take one look at him before her jaw dropped. On almost every screen in the place there was footage from New York and the debates and support that followed the Avengers' actions there. The woman looked choked up for a moment as she slowly stood.

"By god… It's you," she barely breathed. "You're…"

"Captain America, yeah," Steve put in quickly. "I'm sorry, but I really do need to see Peggy Carter. Is she available?"

"No, it's not that. You're Steve Rogers," the attendant announced quietly. "Peggy saw you on the television yesterday and we haven't been able to get her to stop telling stories about you. Half the residents here have stories about how you saved their lives or that of a friend or family member and it's been amazing to hear it all in the past two days! Oh my god, you're actually real!"

"S-she… she remembers me?" Steve practically choked on the words, but the look on the attendant's face told him all he needed to know.

"She won't shut up about you," the young brunette said with almost a laugh before she paused. "Oh, I'm so sorry, you're here to see her. Right, let's get you back there to see her right away."

Steve felt his heart leap at the proclamation. If she remembered him, did that mean she still had feelings for him? Those emotions quickly darkened, however, as he realized there couldn't really be a life with her, not now, not ever. He chucked those dark thoughts away, however, and quickly followed the attendant as she led him back. There were a million questions on his mind, but Steve forget them all the moment the attendant opened the door and asked if Peggy was ready for visitors.

The sound of her voice made his spirits soar, even if it was shaky with age. When the attendant stepped aside, Steve strode in slowly, his flowers in his hands as he saw her. She was beautiful even now at over ninety, she had aged pretty damn well for everything she had gone through to live so long. Her eyes widened as she saw him and instantly they were wet as recognition set in.

"You're alive! You...you came, you came back."

"Yeah, Peggy," Steve barely breathed as he moved even closer and pulled up a chair near her so he could sit down with her.

"It's been so long," Peggy cried as she sat up as much as her withering body could. She clasped her hands on his when he offered one and she kissed his hand. "So long."

"Well I couldn't leave my best girl," Steve responded as he kissed her hands in return and closed his eyes tight at the contact as pain, heartbreak, and love washed over him before he looked back up at her. "Not when she still owes me a dance."

Tears left Peggy's eyes even more after that. She gestured him closer and Steve moved to the bed so he could give her a proper hug. They held one another for dear life, and Steve felt tears welling up in his eyes before he cut them off. He couldn't cry, not here, not in front of Peggy, not when she needed him to be strong for her.

"We searched, for so long we searched for you," Peggy whimpered to him as she finally released her grip on him and cup his cheek in her hand, which he quickly nuzzled into gently. "Howard never gave up. Said he would die before he stopped looking for you… I'm so sorry he couldn't be here to see you. You haven't even aged a day."

"I know, I know," Steve whispered to her as he grasped her hand in his possessively. "He searched until the very end, and his money funded SHIELD to find me. But I did meet Tony, and we… we get along just fine now. He's as slick as Howard ever was though."

Peggy laughed lightly at that before she coughed. When she turned back to him, she couldn't help but smile. "Anthony always was a slick young man, just like his father. It's so good to see you, Steve… I always hoped you were alive but I… we lost you so long ago. I'm sorry for ever doubting you."

"Don't be, Peggy, I was gone a long time, far longer than I hoped to be. They may have labelled me MIA, and they may have been right in the end, but I was KIA for all the good it did," Steve replied as he rubbed her hand in his. He was so glad to just have a piece of his past left to him, and here she was. "I'm so sorry I'm late for our dance."

"Oh, I would give you one if I could, Steve, it's the least I could do but I can't dance," she cried gently as more tears dribbled down her cheeks. "But it doesn't matter anymore. You're here! You're safe and alive! That's all that matters."

"Yeah…" Steve sighed as she kissed his hand again. "Yeah I guess so. But I missed a lot more than our dance, Peggy. There are so many things I wish I could go back and do with you and the others… but I can't. I missed it all. I missed out on life where I belonged."

"Oh Steve, my kid from Brooklyn," Peggy said as she cradled his cheek once again. A silent sob struck Steve's chest, but still he kept his tears at bay as he heard Peggy speak. "I don't have any regrets about the life I lived, and you should not regret what you missed," she tried to comfort him. "I lived a long life, a full life with a man I loved with all of my heart. You saved him, you know, during the war. You saved the world and saved so many lives that went on to make a difference in many more peoples' lives, even my own."

"But I missed out on a life in a time I knew, with people I knew, Peggy," Steve almost growled as he helped Peggy leaned back. She got comfortable once again, but her eyes never left him. "I don't belong here. I don't belong in this century. I belong with you and Howard, and Gabe, Jacques, Montgomery, Dugan and Jim and… and Bucky. That's where I belong. If I could go back, I'd save Bucky and keep myself from ever having to crash that plane. We could have done something else and I could have lived the rest of my life with all of you!"

"These things happen for a reason, Steven!" Peggy argued in her creaking voice right back as she rubbed his cheek. "We can't go back, and if we did, what then? Would you keep me from falling in love with James? Or having my children?"

"I…" Steve hesitated and choked on his words as he looked away ashamed. He took a deep breath to steady himself, ad when he looked back up, his heart broke again. "I couldn't even if I tried. It made you happy and you had a good life. I couldn't do that to you no matter how much I wanted a life with you."

"No, and I wouldn't want you to," Peggy said as she clenched his hand in hers still. "I lived a good life, Steve, a great one even. But you're wrong about one thing: You do belong here. You came back when we needed you and you belong here with us again. You belong with Anthony and Banner and that god Thor and… and Romanoff and Barton, out there saving the world. You belong with them, Steve. You still have so much life left to live."

Steve nodded slowly as he listened, really listened, to the former flame of his life. Peggy had made such a difference in his life back then, and she was doing it all over again now. He let out a shuddering breath as he held her hand as tightly as he dared. "Maybe I do… but it's so hard, Peggy."

"Is that any reason to give up?" Steve almost smiled at her challenging tone. She spoke as if they were back at Camp Lehigh or one of their many military fronts during the war. He shook his head in response and she nodded imperiously. "Then don't. You deserve a good life, Steve, and you need to live it."

"I will," he promised after a few moments of quiet. "I promise, I'll live my life and come trade stories when I can… but that doesn't mean I won't think about what could have been."

"Hindsight will always put everything out of our favor, Steve, it can sour even the best of moments, and it's not something to let yourself dwell on," Peggy said as she let out a shaky breath. "It will ruin your life, if you let it. And you can't let it win, Steve. You can't let Red Skull and Hydra win, not now, not ever, not when you finally have a chance to live your life again. You can always remember us, but don't forget to live, Steve. You need to move past everything that happened. You need to move forward and live a life worth living, like I know you want to."

Steve smiled and lowered his gaze to their hands, his head bowed as he thought everything over. Quiet settled over the pair as Peggy's hand carded through his hair gently for a minute until Steve found his voice, as well as his answer. "When are you ever going to stop being right, Peggy?"

"Never, old British women are always right. The Queen demands nothing less."

Steve snorted at that and the pair chuckled over that little joke as he rubbed her hand in his. "I'd expect nothing less from you either." Steve sighed as he got comfortable on her bedside. "So, how do you know who Hawkeye and Black Widow are?"

"Nicholas," she answered, as if that answered everything, which to them it certainly did. "He visits every so often. They're good people, Steve. Give them a chance."

"I will," he told her as a smile steadily grew upon his lips. "I already am, actually."

"Good," Peggy said as she eased back against the headboard of her bed. "Now, tell me everything. I want the whole story, especially the exciting bits."

Steve grinned and nodded. For a moment, things felt normal again, or at least, he realized there was a new normal in his life. He planned to spend some time here visiting Peggy, then going to Arlington to honor his fallen brothers. After that, well, he would figure it out. For now, he eased back into his chair and pulled it a little closer so he and Peggy could have a nice chat. The world could wait a little longer, and he just might find a way to move forward after all of this.

"Well, I guess it all started when I woke up in this fake recovery room…"


	4. Chapter 4: Starting at SHIELD

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. I'm glad to see so much support for this project. I really appreciate it! I'll hopefully be able to maintain a weekly schedule until late June when it will be strictly monthly from there on out. That way I get the beginning all taken care of and hopefully move us through the rest of the story at a decent pace.  
2\. I tend not to answer reviews in my stories, but this review deserves a nice answer. To the guest that started reviews for chapter 3: I debated making Friendship the other category instead of Drama. I still might, because the friendships forged by various characters are most certainly important to the story. I love both versions of romance, but I can definitely appreciate how slow burn really gets you invested, and in this case works perfectly for the pair. Man Out of Time will also be a recurring theme for Steve, as will other hard-wired character themes for each person.  
3\. As always, let me know what you think.

 **Chapter Four: Starting at SHIELD**

Steve wondered if his future was destined to run in cycles of two weeks before something happened. It had been two weeks since the battle of New York. Steve had thought that perhaps the worst of it all was over. But despite how hard it was hearing and reading that everything he knew and loved was gone, it was a thousand times worse actually experiencing it.

Peggy had been lucid all throughout his retelling of his 21st century experiences. She had asked questions about his time preparing for the world and then trying to save it in detail. It had felt normal, relaxing even, as if he were debriefing with her about his latest mission during the war. It felt so good to talk to her, to relax for once in weeks and just let himself go.

But it wasn't to last.

He had left her for only a few moments to grab some more water for them both. Upon his return, however, his soul was crushed even further. Peggy looked at him as if it was the first time seeing him in this century all over again. The same words, the same reaction, all of it came back and tore him apart even as her tears etched into his heart a truth he could no longer deny...

Having her alive was far worse than if she had been dead.

So Steve did what he did best, even if it killed him. He offered her his comfort, his strong arms wrapped around her to protect and soothe her, but it did nothing for him. Each tear cut its way through his heart over and over, and he knew that this was just the first time of many. So he saved his hurt, saved his agony and kept it all inside as he spoke with her once again with as composed and collected a smile as he could manage on his lips; this time listening to her talk about her own family, instead of his experiences.

When he left that first night, he wasn't sure he could ever go back…

But he did.

It was torture, if he was honest with himself. Going to see her time after time, only to realize she would soon forget and this endless cycle would continue. Even so, he took her words of wisdom to heart. He needed to move on, and that was never more apparent than the metaphor their meetings became in those first few days. He could always try to go back to the way things were, but it would infinitely end in heartbreak no matter what he tried. He had to start over, start fresh. He had to use his past to motivate him to find a future worth living for, he had to go out into the world and find a reason to keep moving forward.

That realization came to him, not in Peggy's presence, but in the quiet isolation of the Howling Commandos Memorial among the 107th Regiment at Arlington National Cemetery. He had gone there in the middle of the night after visiting Peggy for the third time. He wanted to see their graves, or at least a memorial to them. There they were, carved in marble as if they had just kicked down the door of a HYDRA base and laid everyone inside to waste… with him at their head, shield held before him, and colt .45 at his side.

He spoke to them for what felt like hours, days even. He reminisced about bygone days he remembered, about all of the things he wanted to tell them, and now had to tell their families if he ever got a chance to meet them. Still, he spoke the secrets of his heart out to that memorial, promised them he would make them all proud of him even in this new century. Because they knew he had always put himself second, had always put the many over the one, and he was that one. His self-sacrifice had driven them mad, sometimes, but they had accepted it even if they tried to push him to do more for himself.

It was well after dawn when he finally retreated to his motorcycle and went back to the city proper to get some breakfast. All the while, his thoughts were on the promise he made them: _I will lead a good life, I will do more for myself, and I will not forget any of you, even as I move forward with my life._

He spent two weeks in Washington D.C. visiting Peggy, the commandos, the local tourist traps, and any restaurant with good jazz. Of course, he was able to enjoy that until he had to avoid a few incidents with overzealous fans that came out of the woodwork once people realized he was visiting D.C. That got annoying quickly, but he was polite and patient with them, to a point. Eventually he'd had to fake a call and rush off to his bike, strap his SHIELD to his back and roar out like he was going to save New York again, only to end up at a café a way off with a hat bowed low and a sketchbook held high as he worked on one project or another to avoid attention…

Although, the free scones that barista gave him had improved his mood, even if it did cost him one autograph and a "selfie" as the girl called it.

He had just finished one of his artistic projects when he got a call from Clint that he and Natasha were heading back to New York. Steve had wondered if he even wanted to return to SHIELD. He debated it in his mind quickly, however, because he knew exactly who he wanted in his life. They at least cared about him; enough, Steve knew, to invite Steve into Clint's home where no-one could reach them. He had answered Clint that he would meet them in New York and that he looked forward to it.

Because he honestly did, and he missed them more than he thought he would.

He pulled up to the SHIELD secure garage facility and the guard waved him through with ease. Steve parked his Harley with a hidden grin as he noticed numerous female agents just getting out of their cars watching him. He used to be more self-conscious around women, but after the USO tours he was less so, even if he didn't engage them like others. Of course, the fact the women he had worked with since the USO Tour Days were all strong, independent, armed and dangerous females certainly made all the difference.

Because damn if he didn't like a strong, intelligent, confident woman who wasn't afraid to take charge or sucker punch you if it came to it.

 _Strong women don't scare me,_ he thought with an amused grin as he saw a few interested expressions. _They make me swoon._

Before Steve could even head towards his shared housing with Natasha and Clint, however, Maria Hill herself approached him.

"Good to see you again, Captain Rogers," the agent said as she joined him in the elevator. "I'm sorry for the short notice, but Director Fury wants to see you before you return to your quarters."

"Understood," Steve sighed lightly as he stood next to the strong, attractive woman in the elevator. He kept his shield and Duffle bag slung over his shoulder and slightly behind him to keep it out of the way, his leather jacket fit nicely to him, and his shirt underneath hugged his finely toned body enough to make any woman want to look under the hood, especially with the jeans and work boots he wore.

Maria, on the other hand, was wearing a suit like that which she wore on the helicarrier, a catsuit Natasha had called it. It flattered her in all the right places and Steve just knew he could draw her naked based on the profile of her body it provided him alone. He shrugged that thought aside, however, for the professionalism of a soldier instead of the mind of an artist.

"How are you holding up since New York?"

Maria blinked in surprise, and Steve smiled indulgently as she realized he actually wanted to hold a conversation with her rather than making polite and idle chit-chat.

"I'm doing fine, better now that we're out of the worst of it all," Maria explained smoothly and vaguely all at once. Steve raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled at him. "Really, Rogers, I'm fine. Any family I have is safe. The reconstruction efforts are going well, due in no small part to generous donations from Stark Industries, and the helicarrier is being repaired without issue in one of our shipyards. Things are returning to normal and that's something we could all use, I think."

Steve nodded politely as a smile worked its way across his lips. "Normal and regular would be good, Ma'am, especially if it was geared toward my life rather than my work. Although, I have to say I'd rather not fight more aliens from outer space anytime soon."

Maria snorted lightly as she heard that. She wasn't as cold as other agents, or perhaps as other agents made her out to be. She respected the chain of command and was a major contributor to that same chain of command herself. So Steve treated her like a superior officer, and quite like an equal, and he had no problems with it. That, he thought, seemed to catch her most off-guard, and he would be right. His comments were not lost on her and she could read between the lines well enough that she should look at herself rather than her work for her happiness and state of being, and she had to admit that he was correct.

"No Ma'am's, Rogers, and that's an order," she countered with a light smile, one Steve returned with a quirk of his lips. "Call me Maria, or Agent Hill if you must."

"Only if you call me Steve or Rogers, Maria." Maria returned Steve's smile before he brought up an old favor. "Thank you for the information. I'll make sure you get something for your trouble."

She nodded briskly to him as the elevator reached its destination. They both stepped out but before they could make it to the doors, Maria gently grasped his arm to hold him back. She had respected and believed in him since the Battle of New York, and he didn't need to be sucker-punched without fair warning. Steve looked at her in confusion before she sighed and moved close to him.

"Take it easy in there, alright? You might learn a few things that might upset you," she warned him gently.

Steve's brow furrowed lightly but he nodded to her all the same. She returned the gesture and moments later they were inside Fury's own office. It was brimming with advanced technology that Steve hadn't had a chance to touch yet, but it was also very modern. White walls, floor and ceiling, holographic images everywhere, a spartan number of pictures around the room, all contrasting with the sea of black Fury seemed to wear on a constant basis.

"Glad to have you back, Cap," Nick welcomed him. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, Fury," Steve said as he took the proffered seat, set his duffle and shield beside him, and watched the man before him. "Any particular reason you called me up here?"

"I wanted to check in with you, see how you were adjusting."

Steve held in his answer a beat before he grinned lightly. "As if you didn't have eyes on me down in DC the entire time."

"I didn't, actually, you deserved your privacy after what happened here two weeks ago," the director stated clearly before he swiped something up from his desk and into the air: footage of him leaving Arlington surrounded by fans played freely. "Although this little incident did catch our eye. Nice trick with the phone and making an urgent retreat to an emergency that didn't exist."

"Politeness can only take you so far," Steve answered with a brief shrug. "Urgency generally worked in the past and muttering random codenames into a phone as I made my exit seemed to work."

"That it did, and hopefully it will in the future," Fury decided as he shunted the video away once more. "Of course, you're America's poster child once again and I've gotten no less than a hundred requests from various government and military officials to speak with you, including the president after that little visit to Arlington came to light."

"Is that supposed to intimidate me, or make me laugh, sir?" Steve answered with a light grin.

"It's supposed to make you careful, because some people won't be as polite as official requests or fan crowding, some will just take things into their own hands, and you don't want that," the director warned in a cold voice. "But to be honest, the publicity is doing a lot of good and my superiors would like you to make a few more appearances in strategic places."

"With all due respect, sir, that isn't going to happen," Steve responded sternly as he tensed up.

"Funny how anytime someone says, 'with all due respect' they really mean 'you can kiss my ass and I'll say what I damn well please,'" Fury noted with a wry grin. "But no, I wasn't going to order or try to convince you to do that. I'll leave the PR stunts to Stark, since he loves getting good press. I've already pushed the requests his way and kept any further requests from reaching me. If you wanted to help, I'd let you, but I think you can do more good elsewhere."

Steve took a breath. He knew what this meeting was about now. He had expected it ever since speaking with Natasha those first few weeks. Hell, he had expected it the moment he had come out of the ice. They didn't just use their most valuable resources to rescue, thaw, and debrief someone unless they had a use for them. That cynical world view had come about from living through the Great Depression, but it had served him well.

"You want to use me."

"You're a valuable asset," Fury stated as if it was obvious with a simple shrug. "And a good man, something SHIELD and the rest of the world sorely needs these days."

"That little line isn't going to get you anywhere," Steve chided the director. "I've heard it used too often, and even used it to manipulate myself. Believe me, I know who I am better than all of you. You want my help, but that comes with a few conditions."

"Is that so?" Nick responded as he rounded the desk and leaned against it with his back up straight and his arms crossed. "Not going to be grateful for us pulling your ass out of the ice?"

"I think saving the world covered that debt," Steve countered with a light grin. "As well as any perceived debt you might think I owe due to helping me catch up in any way shape or form."

Nick huffed in amusement, and he wasn't the only one. Maria bowed her head and pressed her lips together to resist a smile, which she failed at. Even so, Colonel Fury reigned in his composure with ease as he looked back at Steve. "And just why do you think you get to set the conditions of any agreement we come to?"

"Simple, you need me, I don't need you." That simple truth would have shocked lesser agents, but the Director and his Deputy were unflappable in that moment. "Or at least, you want me to work with you, while I have many options at my disposal. I could go and be a rich celebrity hero like Stark, or maybe even work for him as head of security or something. Hell, I might just go find a nice loft, make myself an art studio and live out my life on accumulated riches while trying to become an accomplished artist in my own right. I've got a lot of options, so what makes your offer to me any more appealing than those choices?"

Maria raised an eyebrow at that, but Fury remained implacable and composed. Still, Maria seemed to put on a show more than any real reaction. Of course, she might be impressed that a guy from the 40s dared negotiate on a level like this with a man like Nick, but he couldn't tell. He didn't know her well enough, nor anyone else for that matter besides maybe Natasha, and wasn't that a little delusional when she was a spy and could be anyone she wanted to be? Even so, Steve held his ground and remained comfortable in his seat as he watched the pair of higher ups wait for someone to blink first.

"Because we have Romanoff and Barton, and they're two of the only people you have any feelings for in this era," Nick finally determined.

"Which means my conditions include that you place me with them," Steve negotiated with ease, having seen this argument coming. "I can always call them, and they're spies. They know how to get away and spend time with people they like when they want to. Putting me on a team with them is the best option."

"You're not trained for their kind of work," Maria pointed out casually.

"Paris, June 1944, assassination of a German colonel making life hell for the resistance," Steve stated with ease. "I'm familiar with wet-work."

"And undercover operations?" Maria counselled quickly.

"I'm a fast learner and a decent enough actor, although being as high profile as I am I'll more often than not be going as myself and waiting for the fireworks to go off, or actually being the fireworks, is my bet," Steve answered her without missing a beat. "But I know those two could train me in their way of life if necessary."

"You wouldn't like their life," Nick countered suddenly. "They live in a world of gray that doesn't fit with your black and white morality."

"Says the man who doesn't really know the person behind this shield," Steve stated as he gestured to the duffle bag and shield next to him. "I may not like everything to do with their line of work, but my generation did a lot of things that ensured we might not sleep well at night. I still don't, but I learned to live with it. Besides, I didn't much like a lot of changes in my life, but it's my choice to find that out for myself."

This time Fury huffed in some sort of cynical amusement. Whether he had expected Steve's answer or not, he could relate to that line of thinking, though the man seemed to doubt Steve's resolve on the issue. Still, the Director thought everything over briefly before he nodded slowly.

"Any other conditions you'd like to try and add to the list?"

"Deputy Director Hill is our handler, or you are, take your pick," Steve offered easily as he leaned back in his seat. "Besides that? Not going through basic again would be appreciated but catching up to speed with operations would help. Living where we please and getting adequate time off would also help me be amenable to working for SHIELD." He pulled out a brief list and handed it to Hill. "And those smaller requests would be appreciated but aren't exactly a deal-breaker."

Maria looked over the list but didn't find anything they would really disagree to. The notes about publicity being kept to a bare minimum were surprising, considering he didn't like the idea, but he would put up with it if it got him what he wanted, but only to a point. Otherwise he had some reasonable conditions. Of course, the big one was that he worked with Romanoff and Barton, which wasn't surprising to Maria coming from him, though any other agent would run away screaming.

Then there was the handler business which Maria didn't think she would mind. She may get exasperated with the pair of spies, but she genuinely liked them, though she would hardly admit it outright. With Rogers there to help her, or perhaps give her more headaches, she might enjoy it a bit more. Still, direct placement under the two most powerful people in SHIELD? Rogers had a high demand there, one she was willing to agree to, which she eventually relayed to Fury with a brief nod.

The Director understood the gesture with a seamless nod before his eye stared balefully at Steve. "Besides our resident archer and spy, why else do you want to work for SHIELD? If it's only for staying close them, then I don't see much point to it besides gaining you as an asset, or even a consultant on the outside chance we don't reach an agreement."

Steve paused to consider that question for a moment. He could lie to them, feed them what he wanted, but instead he chose honesty. He had no reason to really be dishonest in this case, so he let any façade fall as he replied.

"Barton and Romanoff are people I care about, and I want to be there to watch their backs like they have mine," began the soldier as he got his primary reason out of the way. "But I think I can still do some good at SHIELD, since it's a reincarnation of the SSR. I'll keep trying to do the right thing for the right reasons, but only with the right people at my side… And I'll do it to honor Howard, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos. It may not be the healthiest thing for me, to jump back in and take orders, to fight the good fight, if that's what we're still fighting, but I'll do my best to make the world a little safer than it is now."

"A damn fine answer if I've ever heard one, sir," Maria commented with a light grin. "I'd be happy to manage the team as its own special operations unit, if you're going to accept it."

"Shit, Hill, you didn't even give me a chance to play the big bad boss card," the colonel said with a sardonic smile, one Maria answered with a light wink and Steve commented on with a light smirk of his own. "Fine, I can agree to that, though be aware Barton, Romanoff, and yourself may be sent on entirely separate solo missions now and then. As great as you worked as a team in New York, your singular talents are also invaluable out in the field in certain situations."

"I understand that, sir, and I can abide by it so long as the others are the first supply line of support," Steve responded with a breath of relief in his voice, and Maria nodded easily to his request. "So, what and where do I sign?"

"We'll get the paperwork sorted out over time, but before you accept there is one bit of information we ought to let you know," Fury stated, his voice growing solemn as he watched the soldier before him. "In times of crisis there are moments that bring people together. In the battle against Loki, one of those moments was the death of Agent Coulson… Well we may have stretched the truth about that a bit. Phil Coulson was fighting for his life on an operating table for a week after the battle and came through it, although it's going to take time for him to be completely rehabilitated. We thought-"

" _You son of a bitch!_ " Barton barked as he barged into the room, with Romanoff hot on his heels. "You mean to tell me we've been mourning our handler when he's been fighting for his life?! What the fuck, Fury?!"

"Is it true?" Natasha asked coldly as she stood between all sides and tried to discern fact from fiction.

Nick looked far from perturbed, more irked and annoyed than anything. Of course, the fact that he had two angry assassins, an upset super-soldier, and a Deputy Head that was giving him an "I told you so" look didn't help matters. Even so, he was stoic in the face of their approach as he remained leaning against his desk with his aura of calm all about him.

"It is true, and we only kept it from you to keep you focused. You all needed the push to unite against Loki, and it got the job done, I won't apologize for that," the man reasoned away as he set his hands on the desk behind him and leaned on them just a smidge more. "So I lied, it's part of the job and if you don't like that anymore you know where the door is. Phil Coulson is alive, and when he's better he's going to have his own task force to handle the best of retrieval forces for a variety of operations. Melinda May has already agreed to be a part of it and keep an eye on him."

With that explanation out of the way, Fury took a brief breath before he continued. "I figured you two would be listening in the moment you got a report of Steve being in the building, but absent from your quarters. So I don't care about that breach of protocol right now. I'm assuming you heard everything?"

Steve wanted to remain in the outraged phase as he listened to Fury's explanation. Phil was alive and he hadn't been told? He could respect that they wanted to respect his own privacy, and Phil's after a fashion for that matter, but they knew how the unflappably kind agent had affected Steve, and the rest of them for that matter. He glanced at Maria and her subtle nod was all the answer he needed. So this was what she meant, and she had tried to prepare him, to have him keep a clear head.

He steamed beneath his exterior, but instead of blowing up, Steve slowly stood and set a hand on Clint's shoulder. The archer turned to stare at him, but at the kind, comforting look Steve offered, Barton's own anger seemed to diffuse. He looked at war with himself for a moment before he sighed. A glance at Natasha, and the redhead seemed as implacable as Fury did. Of course, Steve knew she internalized everything so she never appeared compromised, but he had excepted more reaction than cold deathly seriousness…

Then again, that suited her, and Steve did not want to be Fury right now if she continued to feel that way in the future.

"We can see him?" Natasha asked coldly, though if someone asked Steve, it sounded more like a statement and command.

"He's not conscious very often, but yes, he's allowed visitors from your clearance level," Fury informed them before he pressed on. "Now, did you hear everything or not?"

"Yes," Natasha answered for both of them. At Clint's nod, she shifted her weight on her legs, crossed her arms and smirked. "I think Rogers can do well with us, and having Maria hold our leash might make the other agents feel safer around us… But that's unlikely. I can agree to this new arrangement of ours. We'll got Rogers up to snuff and make sure the old timer can keep up with the rest of us."

Steve's shoulders sagged in relief, and none of the spies in the room missed it. Natasha and Clint's consent would have been asked before the agreement would have been finalized, and they would have had final say. That they accepted him took a weight off Steve he hadn't known he was carrying around. He knew what they were signing up for, getting him up to speed being a part of it, but hadn't they already been doing that? Plus, now they would all get to train with one another, no holds barred, and learn how to fight with perfection.

Not that Steve didn't remember the perfection he and Natasha fought with two weeks back, but it was time to make it even better. Plus, they could work Clint into the action as well, or rather, Clint and Natasha would work Steve into their routine, or perhaps they would all work together to find the niche and make it work that way. It was still the early stages, of course, and the subtle smile he got from Clint, and the wink he got from Natasha was enough to soothe Steve's nerves over the topic.

"Alright then, we'll get the paperwork handled later," Fury announced as he stood up. He approached Steve and offered his hand, one that Steve took with the utmost respect and seriousness as the man leaned in. "Get them killed, and nothing will stop me."

"You'd have to beat me to it."

Steve's response actually got a raised eyebrow of surprise out of the Colonel before it vanished as quickly as it came. With the arrangement set in motion, Fury labelled him at the same level of clearance as Natasha and Clint before he sent them off. Maria followed the new squad out and smiled lightly as she fell into step with them in a line as she made her first step as their handler.

"Don't you three have an island to visit?"

Natasha grinned. "Heard about that, huh? Jealous you're stuck with the paperwork and can't come with us?"

"I can always pawn the paperwork onto you three if I want, but I'll be nice," Hill said with a light grin. "Just bring me back a souvenir when you're done enjoying yourselves. You three have a lot to take care of, you especially, Steve."

"Seventy years of operational know-how and cultural assimilation, yeah, I know," Steve said with a beleaguered sigh. "It's going to take me a while."

"Not nearly as long as you think with us hounding you, Rogers," Natasha teased.

Clint chuckled between them and patted Steve on the back. "Welcome to STRIKE Team: Delta, Steve. You're gonna love it."

" _On va voir._ "

Natasha smirked at Steve's response, and Clint did as well when he remembered Natasha's story about their little chat when he first departed to the tesseract facility. Maria, of course, had heard about it through her channels and grinned lightly.

"Well then, hop to it. Go and enjoy Coney Island and don't forget to get me something," Maria told them as she picked up her pace slightly to reach her own office nearby. "Training begins tomorrow at 0600. We'll start with physical and move onto operations and technology afterward. Following that, we'll tailor it to what you three need, as always."

"Whatever you say, Maria," Natasha teased with a light wink.

"Thank you, Maria," Steve countered more earnestly, earning an eye-roll from Natasha and a snicker from Clint for his trouble.

After Maria was gone, Steve looked to the other two. "Should we visit Coulson before we go?"

"I'd like to, he's probably in medical suite 7, where our top priorities go," Clint noted more casually than he felt.

"It'll be good for us," Natasha reasoned aloud. "Besides, he may want something from Coney Island as well, if he's not taking a nap like someone on the verge of a midlife crisis might be doing."

Despite the seriousness of Coulson's condition, neither Steve nor Clint could hold in a grin at Natasha's casual manner. They stopped by the apartment to drop off Steve's belongings, though he took something out of it with care that neither agent got a good look at. He refused to tell them and had a light smirk on his face as he slipped them into the chest pocket of his shirt. Natasha could have gotten them easily with a bit of misdirection and flirting, but now was not the time. She assumed she'd learn what it was shortly.

When they reached the medical wing, the staff were already prepared to guide them to Coulson's room. The warnings about not getting his heart rate up, along with a number of other rules passed them by, though all three agents had memorized them on the spot. As soon as they saw him, however, each was overcome with emotion, though they didn't show it. Phil Coulson, who they thought had died trying to stop Loki, was lying in bed with cello music playing in the background and a personnel file in his hands.

"Hey, Phil, did that bald-spot grow since we last saw you?"

Clint's off-hand remark brought a wan smile to Phil's face as he closed the file and looked up at them. "You're nearing the age to start losing hair yourself, Barton."

The light jokes of the two men were quickly answered by a light hug, as Clint made sure to be as gentle as possible. The two men had worked together for almost two decades on and off, and they shared the bond all old soldiers did as they embraced in that moment. Clint whispered something but neither Natasha or Steve caught it as Phil shook his head with a light smile.

Natasha approached silently as Clint stepped around to the other side to pull up a chair. Neither handler nor spy spoke for a few moments before she eased into a gentle hug. No words needed to be shared then, not between those two. Phil had only worked with Natasha since she was 22, five years about that time, but she had learned to trust Coulson, and enjoyed his company more than other agents, besides Clint and perhaps Maria Hill and Melinda May.

"Next time, it better be permanent."

"Your concern is noted, Natasha," Phil answered her blatant, if fond, threat. His unflappable polite smile returned as if it had never left his face and Natasha offered a wan smile of her own before she stepped around the bed and sat at Phil's feet.

"It's good to see you alive, sir," Steve began as he approached the older agent. He extended a hand, one that Coulson gladly shook in return.

"You too, Captain Rogers," the man sighed gently as he slowly readjusted himself to sit upright a little more. "I'm sorry we had to deceive you."

"We needed the push," Steve spoke softly as he released Phil's hand. "Not the first time for me." That earned him a few raised eyebrows, but Steve didn't pay it any mind. Instead he took out the items he had carried in his shirt pocket and took a single breath. After a few moments, he offered them to Coulson. "Would you mind signing these for me, sir?"

Coulson blinked in surprise for a moment but as he caught sight of the first card he froze completely. His jaw dropped lightly as he examined it, then turned to the next. Clint and Natasha, unable to hold in their curiosity, looked at what Coulson had in his hands only to be surprised themselves. In his hands were a series of cards all dedicated to Phil Coulson in various poses, all of them carefully drawn, some realistic and artistic while others were drawn as if it was an old 1940's comic, a mirror of the ones Phil had of Steve, including one where Coulson held the destroyer rifle from phase II at the ready, something Steve could only have drawn if he'd gotten access to footage of that moment.

"Some heroes deserve the recognition, sir," Steve spoke proudly as he watched Coulson come to terms with the gesture. All the while Steve kept an eye on the man's heart rate and noticed it rise slightly before it steadied as he looked back up at his idol. "Phil Coulson, Honorary Howling Commando for remarkable sacrifice and service in the line of duty."

While to anyone else it would be rather corny, Natasha and Clint saw it for the gesture it was. Steve had made those cards initially to honor and remember Coulson for his sacrifice. Now that he was alive, however, it was a gesture of trust, recognition, and friendship. Steve thought of Coulson in a way similar to all of those he had lost, an ideal to look up to, and the older agent actually lost his composure as a tear trickled down his cheek.

"Of course, Steve." Coulson accepted the pen Steve offered him and slowly signed each one. It was a surreal experience for the agent as he signed them, including the duplicates Steve had made, no doubt for the others that cared about him. The information on the back was quite accurate, and Coulson knew that someone had helped the captain gain access. "If I can ask, who?"

"Maria Hill," Steve answered in a heartbeat. "I asked her for basic information and a few stills of you around the helicarrier and other missions. I planned to give her a set for her help."

"I'll have to thank her personally," Coulson said with a smile as he continued signing the cards. "This must have taken you a lot of time, Steve."

"I had a lot of time in D.C. to just sit and think. I preferred to focus on something like this," Steve explained before he took a set of cards and handed them to Clint.

"Ohh, I like this one," the archer said instantly as he held up one of Coulson with his suit billowing in the wind, a hat on his head and his gun held high as he provided covering fire for his team. "Panama, right? You had us and Rumlow's team taking out a cartel selling experimental steroids via the canal to various organizations. Things went south when their leader got away from Rumlow's team."

"I think the hat gave it away," Natasha teased lightly as she received her own set and searched for that particular card. "You bought a Panama hat in Panama just for the sake of having done it. It never did suit you though. Although I must say, this does make for an impressive sight, all things considered. The hat might even work for you in only this instance."

"It did cover up the bald spot though," Clint chimed in with a mischievous grin.

"Romanoff, fill Clint's next bottle of shampoo with Nair for me, will you?" Coulson countered with a quirk of his lips as he signed the cards zealously. "He needs a look at his future."

"You got it, Phil," Natasha responded fondly with a wink as she went through all the cards, while Clint stuck his tongue out very maturely at the both of them. "Steve, these are amazing. Art school really did a number on you, huh?"

"I've been drawing since I was bed-ridden with sickness in my early years," Steve replied with a light shrug. "I couldn't do much but read, study, or draw when I was in bed, so I drew a lot as a kid. Got pretty good at it as a result. My art school professors were quite impressed with my early work. These are a personal favorite though. I've got some of others I've lost as well. I'm just glad I get to have these signed by the man himself."

Coulson actually blushed lightly at that as Natasha and Clint smirked at him. Steve had made ten sets, as he wasn't sure who else would need or want a set for themselves. The agents whiled the time away with pleasant conversation, informing Phil of what happened at the Battle of New York and other anecdotes. Eventually a nurse came in to tell them it was time for Phil to eat lunch and the new team departed from their former handler happily. They returned once more to their housing before Natasha snuck off to set their respective sets of cards on Maria and Fury's desks without either noticing. When she returned, the three made quick work of getting to Coney Island.

Steve had to take a moment to breathe in the familiar sights, sounds and smells, so familiar to his past, but also distinctly different in some ways. The three quickly raided the nearest food stalls and managed to get a table to themselves. As they ate, Clint teased Steve about getting cards of himself and Natasha, to which Steve offered an outrageous commission price that had Natasha laughing at Clint as he frowned. They continued to eat, talking about nothing or planning what they wanted to do around the park.

They hit the rides first, something Steve couldn't help but take some joy in. The last time he was there had been with Bucky shortly before his friend's deployment. Back then he had thrown up after riding the Cyclone, though this time he didn't have to worry about his constitution. Instead, the sudden drops occasionally reminded him of his crash, though they were batted away by the laughter of Clint and Natasha as they truly enjoyed themselves.

"You alright?" Clint asked Steve quietly as Natasha went off to get them drinks, despite Steve's protests.

"Hmm? Yeah, it's just been a while since I've been here," Steve answered him in a low mutter.

"With your friend, right? Bucky?"

Steve looked over at his new partner, associate, friend, whatever Clint was becoming to him and nodded wistfully. "Yeah. We went on the Cyclone because he dragged me on it and I threw up. I… I can still hear him laughing his ass off as I hurled into that trash can, before he patted me on the back to help me recover," Steve continued with a wave to a nearby can. "He was such a little shit when he wanted to be. Hell, I was too. Still am according to Peggy."

"I bet you got him back for it though, right?" Clint asked with a quirk of his lips.

"I figured out the games as a kid and could win every time, made him beg me for the stuffed animals so he could woo a few girls that had their eyes on him," Steve responded with a light smirk. The memory played before his eyes and Steve almost lost himself in it before he shook his head. "It's as hard coming back here as it is wonderful."

"I'm sorry, maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Clint whispered in concern.

"No, it was, a good idea I mean" Steve assured him as he patted Clint lightly on his arm. "It's nice to be back here, to live a little again. I've enjoyed the rides a lot more this time. I should be asking you if you're alright being here. I've noticed you smiling a little off."

Clint rubbed his arm lightly and sighed. "Childhood memories of carnivals and circuses a lot like this park. I grew up in them and that's where I learned my archery skills."

Steve nodded lightly, but something seemed off. "Anything else?"

Clint let out a light laugh. "Yeah but… not here, and I'm not sure I'm ready to tell you."

"Fair enough, I won't pry just like you don't pry with me," Steve replied with an easy smile, one Clint returned with gratefulness.

Natasha returned with three drinks and a box of popcorn. Clint instantly took his drink and tried to steal some Popcorn only for Natasha to smack his hand away. Steve chuckled at the pair of spies, acting like brother and sister as he walked with them. They included him, though, as Natasha tossed a kernel over to him that he caught easily in his mouth with a smirk. Clint laughed, despite losing in that little game, while Natasha licked her lips in a way that drew Steve's gaze, so entranced by the act he couldn't look away for a few moments. Her lips quirked in her natural smirk and Steve cleared his throat and glanced away briefly before she tossed him another kernel that he captured without issue while Clint was distracted.

When they reached the games section all three agents wore a smile, though Clint looked particularly mischievous.

"Whoever loses the most buys pizza and beer?"

"You're on, Barton," Steve and Natasha said instantly, before they blinked in surprise at one another and high fived with a light laugh as Clint smirked at them.

The three were absolutely merciless as they went from one game to the next. Each of them completed a flawless ring toss, which got them stuffed animals each, before they moved onto more competitive games. Filling the balloons, Steve took a very particular seat, and with a wink at the young woman worker there won without issue. Of course, the fact he knew the exact weight of the gun, the arc of the water, and the pressure on the trigger from days long gone by helped. The two spies called foul because he had conned them, only to themselves con their own wins later. Natasha charmed an automatic racing horse attendant to making sure her horse won. Clint, conned a young woman into pushing Steve and Natasha at the last moment during another game so they would lose and he would win.

Of course, neither spy beat Steve at the mallet swing, as he rang the bell so often in such short succession it surprised the attendant before Steve pulled his glasses down and winked at the man. The guy about flipped out before being silenced by a ten-dollar bill from Steve. When they reached whack-mole, something Steve wasn't familiar with, the other two spies beat him.

A number of games passed and just when it looked like Steve would be the overall victor, he threw the game at the last second and let Natasha win, which put Steve in last. Natasha, of course, knew what he had done and socked him in the shoulder as hard as she could.

"You let me win," she accused him, rightfully, with narrowed eyes.

"I would never," Steve answered with a shit-eating grin as he blatantly refued to ub his slightly aching shoulder from the hit.

"Bullshit," she countered with a smirk. "Being a gentleman, Rogers?"

"Well a _perfect_ gentleman _would_ let a lady win," Steve drawled lightly, his grin firmly in place. "But I'm not sure I'm a perfect gentleman."

"Or that she's a lady," Clint chipped in, which earned him a punch to the arm from Natasha as well.

Natasha glared at them for a few moments, mainly Steve, then rolled her jaw in that attractive way she seemed to know how to do and sauntered off. Of course, the way she moved instantly drove Steve's eyes below her belt, right into her trap. Because a second later she smirked at him over her shoulder in victory. When he and Clint finally caught up she pulled Steve down to whisper in his ear.

"Not very gentlemanly to look at a woman's ass like you're hungry for a piece of her," her voice slithered in his ear with a sultry, husky tone that drove him all sorts of wild. Steve shivered at her voice, and the contact of her arms wrapped around his right arm as they walked. "But I might just allow it with you. I'd like a one-on-one rematch someday…"

Steve shivered again and knew she had won in the best way she could, even if she hadn't won fair and square with the games because of his supposed chivalry. She let go of his arm and Steve leaned back up only to find his load slightly lighter, as the animals they had won were now in a large canvas bag slung over the shoulder opposite Natasha. She had taken the largest animal from the bag and hugged it as she walked with Clint on her right and Steve on her left. When they reached the entrance, Natasha picked out a few more from the bag and had Clint carry them before she and Steve proceeded to start giving away their won animals at her insistence.

Steve couldn't help but smile when he saw her give the little purple bear in her hand to an excited young girl. It was the sweetest thing Steve had seen of this new century and it changed his view of Natasha a bit more. She was kind, and cared, even if she was reserved. To see her make that child happy brought a smile to his face and he started handing out some other animals to the kids before Clint filled the bag with the ones Natasha reserved for them, including the large bear that Natasha insisted she carry, despite it being almost half her size. It was the most normal thing Steve had done since waking up, going to the Island with Natasha and Clint, and he couldn't thank them enough for it.

Finished with their sweet deed for the day, the three agents made quick work of going to Joe's Pizza in Brooklyn where Steve ordered them a feast before they left Brooklyn and headed back to base. Four pizzas stacked high, Steve returned to the SUV to find Clint inviting Maria to their housing unit for dinner and some conversation, which she agreed to. It didn't take them too long in New York traffic to get back to base, and once there the three instantly went to their unit, although a number of agents groaned in jealousy at the succulent pizza carried around. Of course, the odd looks Natasha got for carrying a large dark blue bear in her arms quickly turned away when she shot anyone a smirk as Clint carried the others in the sack over his shoulder.

The three agents grabbed a few plates and bottles of coke as they returned to the living room, something Steve figured he would have to get used to. As they set up, Maria arrived with a bottle of wine in one hand, and a fifth of rum in the other. Natasha, of course, was the first to greet her with a wicked smirk.

"What, no tequila, Maria?"

"Oh no, I learned my lesson about that in Cuba with you, thank you very much," Maria commented with a shake of her head as she grabbed a few tumblers. "That's never happening again."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure Rogers wouldn't mind seeing it," Clint chipped in with an equally mischievous grin. "You two were quite the sight that day."

"Do I even want to know?" Steve asked as he looked around the room.

"No!" "Yes!" Maria argued with Clint and Natasha.

"How can you say that when you ended up the same as me, Romanoff?!" Maria asked with a bit of disbelief.

"A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere, Hill," she offered with a sultry wink at Steve. "Besides, the tequila only made our tops come off, it wasn't like it was all of our clothes like most of the girls at that party."

Steve shook his head and started making plates for everyone, piling on two slices a plate as he tried not to imagine his colleagues topless… and failed spectacularly. Instead he swallowed those images down for later consideration, if ever, and offered Maria a plate. "Don't worry, I had girls busting down my backstage door all the time to catch a glimpse of me in the all-together."

"Now those photos I would pay to see," Natasha taunted him with her sultry mischievous look in full effect. "Mmm… Steve Rogers, shirtless. Maria, I say his training tomorrow is in modern immodesty and fashion."

"Down, Romanoff, we'll ease him into everything," Maria stood up for him, which Steve was thankful for… right up until she continued. "How about we get Steve shirtless next week?"

"That's three to the list," Steve muttered, which had Clint and Natasha cracking up lightly. "You spies will be the death of me."

"Oh, come on, Steve, I'll go shirtless with you," Clint chimed happily. "It'll be fun."

"And get yourself outclassed by me because of it?" Steve shot back as he regained his confidence and ignored the growing smirks on Natasha and Maria's faces. "Because you know all of the female agents will be invited for a peek at Captain America. What are you compared to all of this, hmm?"

"Oh, it's like that, huh?"

"Oh, it's like that."

The pair grinned and chuckled with one another before they all sat back and discussed Coney Island with Maria. She was happy with her red cat that Natasha tossed her. Natasha did mention Steve letting her win, which he strictly denied, much to the knowing grins on Hill and Clint's faces, while Natasha stuck her tongue out at him. Steve couldn't help but relax among them in this moment as they all sat sipping at rum and coke, or wine in Maria's case, though she occasionally turned to the mixed drink with the rest.

It was as they made another reference that Steve sighed.

"I've missed out on a lot," he muttered lightly when their laughter at the reference lulled. "I've got a lot to catch up on."

"Then how about you use this," Natasha stated as she sat on the arm of his chair and held a small palm-sized notebook out to him. "You can make a list of everything you want to learn about and put any suggestions people make inside it as well." Everyone's gazes turned to her and she shrugged them off casually, while her gaze remained on Steve. "I thought it would be helpful."

"It is," Steve spoke quietly as he took the notebook and grabbed a pen from nearby. "I've got a few things in mind already. Thank you, Natasha, this means a lot."

Natasha smiled a smile that made Steve swallow down his thoughts once more. He memorized that moment and sealed it away in his mind, however, for another day. He knew he would draw all of them at one time or another, and he wanted to remember the moment when she had a genuine smile on her face. After Natasha had left the arm of his chair to get a refill, he opened the book to the middle and filled in what he knew would be his most precious page of people he wanted to learn about, and the one that would take the longest to complete because there was always something new to learn.

 _My Friends(?)_ _  
Natasha Romanoff  
Clint Barton  
Maria Hill  
Phil Coulson  
Nick Fury  
Tony Stark  
Bruce Banner  
Thor  
Pepper Potts_


	5. Chapter 5: Spoilers and Surprises

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. This chapter was tough for me to write for a few reasons. I do hope you enjoy my take on events.  
2\. I'm still working to try and stay ahead but real life does have its priorities. Hopefully we'll stay on a weekly track for just a little while longer until I switch to monthly updates.  
3\. I usually only answer reviews via PM, but I may make exceptions here and there for certain reviews. Guest Marie: I don't post on Ao3 mainly because I just haven't really bothered to make the effort of putting my stories there. I don't follow the politics/forums/opinions etc. about either Ao3 or FFN. I just post my stories here, enjoy the reviews, enjoy my own writing, and keep things simple. It's easier to do it in one place than in multiple places, despite the reach I may have with multiple sites. Who knows, maybe someday I will, but I kinda doubt it. Also, I'm glad you enjoy my story and the interactions between characters. I enjoy them myself and I write mainly for myself rather than for anyone else. You guys just get the benefits of me being brave enough to submit my writing here. XD  
4\. Thank you all for the great reviews! The more I see the more motivated I become to get another chapter out. As always, let me know what you think!

 **Chapter Five: Spoilers and Surprises**

Life in the 21st century wasn't all that bad for Steve Rogers in the past month and a half since he had joined SHIELD. He got three square meals a day, a nice little paycheck, not that he needed it with his accumulated funds, and shared a damn nice apartment with his teammates; Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. Their focus had been on training for the most part, getting them all up to speed on one another and working as a cohesive unit. They were naturals in the field together and worked flawlessly at one another's side.

Of course, it wasn't without its downsides. Steve had to constantly play catch up with the future he found himself living in which kept him out of the field more often than not, though his team was never gone long, if at all. Still, his training had definitely stepped up a notch. After they got him fully certified on every known gun and explosive in existence they had focused on other weapon's training as well as martial arts, which he had also excelled at.

He wasn't the Greatest Solder in History for nothing, after all, and enhanced mental and physical capabilities came in handy in that regard.

Of course, after weeks of day in, day out, cuts, scratches, bruises, and panting for breath by the end of the day training and still having material on history, technology, culture, and a half-dozen languages he had to read and catch up on, he was rather tired of it. He knew it was necessary. They needed to know he was ready, that he was capable, that he could adapt and learn new things alongside everyone else, and he certainly was managing that without issue. However, it was like being back at basic for him, that he was starting from scratch.

That, thankfully, was exactly what he needed to do anyway.

Of course, about a month into working and training at SHIELD with Natasha and Clint, the three had received invitations to move into Stark Tower. It had been renamed Avengers Tower and was refurbished and repurposed in record time thanks to the billionaire's vast amounts of money, contacts, and influence. The invitation had been unexpected but fairly welcome to the new team. While they didn't mind their quarters at the SHIELD New York base, they wanted someplace they could call their own, and as much as they were Agents of SHIELD, they were also Avengers.

So the three had decided to move in and discovered that they each had an entire floor to themselves. It was a bit much for Steve's sensibilities, but he had been coerced into accepting the gesture without paying Stark for the entire floor out of his own amassed riches from years of back pay, trademarked goods sales, and interest. Steve had then graciously accepted and moved in along with Clint and Natasha, who themselves quite appreciated the fact they had their own floors.

Steve had just finished moving in completely and looked around his new home. He had his own room with an en suite bathroom, two guest rooms, another luxury bathroom, and an art studio, along with a den and kitchen that worked out splendidly for him. It was extravagant for just one person in his opinion. He had never thought he would have a place like this, and never planned on it either. He didn't know what to do with so much space. Part of him wished he had special people to fill it; his mother, Bucky, or maybe his own family, something he wasn't sure he would ever achieve.

 _Some things just aren't meant to be._

Steve sighed away those thoughts, however, and made his way to the common room for a later breakfast than usual, which meant it was 8 am and he finally allowed himself to stop fiddling with his new apartment. It felt empty to him, after living with Clint and Natasha for the past month and a half, but it would grow on him, he was sure. With his sketchbook in hand, Steve awaited the elevator and finally made his way to the common floor where Tony had insisted a few days ago that they would host an Independence Day Party tomorrow.

"Captain Rogers! I was wondering where you were," the chipper Pepper Potts greeted him as he exited the elevator. "You've always been the first one here since you moved into the tower, so I was about to come and find you when I didn't see you."

"I just finally finished moving in, ma'am" he noted with a polite smile. "And please, Pepper, we're neighbors-, friends, you can call me Steve."

"Ugh! No ma'ams! I don't need to feel any older," she teased him with a smile. "But you're right, Steve, there's no reason to stand on formality anymore."

"Glad to hear it," he agreed with a nod as he set his sketchbook on the kitchen island and began gathering ingredients. "Would you like anything? With this lot it seems you have to cook three meals to feed them even one."

"Says the man that eats three servings," Pepper prodded lightly, to which Steve shrugged with a grin as he gathered things from the fridge. "But I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"You won't be, I offered; and in fact, I insist," he told her with a faux-stern look, which got a smile out of her. "What would you like?"

"How about an omelet? Natasha told me yours are rather monstrous in size but exceptional," Pepper said clearly. "Plus, I want to see how they compare to Tony's."

"Tony _cooks_ omelets?" Steve wondered incredulously. "I figured he just ordered all his food."

"Omelets are about the only thing he learned how to cook," Pepper laughed. "He learned how so his _liaisons_ wouldn't feel like it was only a one-time thing. It made them comfortable and feel appreciated before they left. Now I'm the only one he ever makes omelets for."

"That's nice, that he does that for you," Steve said as he focused on Tony's present positives rather than his more sordid past's negatives. "So, I'll be sure to make this the best omelet you've ever had just to take that from him."

His exaggerated wink was met with her laughter, something Steve rather appreciated about her. Pepper was surrounded by some of the biggest, most influential and powerful personalities in the world, but she still had time to treat him like just another man. Of course, he, Natasha and Clint had had to break her of a little hero worship in the beginning, for all their comfort. She admired him for what he had done, and he thanked her for it, but after a few more incidents they had finally gotten her used to seeing the man and not the legend… mostly.

"So, any thoughts about tomorrow?" she probed lightly in an all too casual tone after a few minutes of light conversation with him. "It must have been quite the big thing for you guys back then."

"It's about the same as today, though I suppose it has changed. The local butcher, instead of ramping up his prices, would put on a sale for the neighborhood every year around this time," Steve tossed out casually, literally answering and metaphorically subverting her question all at once. "Bucky and I went in together on a rack of ribs and some steaks one year. Cooked it with the neighbor's grill as a block party went on all around us and baked some potatoes and had some corn on the cob right along with it. It was quite the night, eating some premium food as we watched the fireworks go off overhead. I couldn't eat breakfast the next morning I was so full of food that night. But I always loved fireworks the best…"

Steve's voice drifted off as he lost himself in cooking, and in thoughts of the past and the probable future. He had not had a proper 4th of July since joining the military, and he doubted he would enjoy them as much now, given his quietly diagnosed condition. Steve had had a few bad reactions during training now and then, which they figured out was from PTSD, or as he remembered it being called: Shell Shock. Still, he had learned to cope, and Natasha had quietly helped him at night when the nightmares hit.

 _I wish she didn't have to._

"So just fireworks and good food, huh?" Pepper prompted after giving him a few moments.

Steve broke away from his thousand-mile stare right as he finished cooking up the last of the ingredients and was ready to make the omelets properly. "It's all we ever needed and could afford back then."

"So, you never wanted anything special?" she continued somberly, as if he had missed out on so much he could have had back then.

"No," Steve insisted with a quick glance at her, hoping he got the message across. "I was happy with what I had. The company mattered more than anything else."

Pepper looked on the verge of saying something else but was deflected when the elevator signaled they had other arrivals. Almost the entirety of the Avengers, along with Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, stepped out of the elevators with expectant looks. One sniff and a glance around, however, told them that breakfast wasn't quite ready, the first time ever since Steve had moved into the building.

"You're slowing down in your old age, Rogers," Natasha chimed smoothly as she hopped up on a raised seat next to Pepper. "Do you need a walker, old man?"

"No more than you need diapers, squirt," Steve countered her with a light smirk. He didn't like the "old man jokes" at first, but they had grown on him, relatively speaking. Natasha's humor was meant to help him lighten up, he knew, and it seemed to work between them and Clint, even Maria on occasion when she was feeling particularly social.

"What are you making, Cap? Need any help operating anything?" Tony questioned, as he did every morning since Steve moved in.

"I've got it well in hand, Tony. I'm making omelets. Pepper wants some that are better than yours," Steve sassed the genius.

"Not possible, my omelets are the finest creation on this earth. Proven fact," Tony countered pridefully. "Not once have I ever had a complaint about my omelets."

"Then I've found a worthy opponent," Steve joked with a wink as he started making the omelet properly. "We'll see what the lovely Ms. Potts has to say about who has the better omelet."

"Ah-ah! That's social manipulation! I call foul," Tony joked, which had most of the room chuckling.

"Oh just quit the jokes and dole out the coffee already, Tony," Clint groaned lightly as he sat at the table, crossed his arms on it and promptly buried his head in them. "Cap, I'd like mine on toast to make a sandwich if you don't mind."

"We really need to work on your manners, Barton. Ladies first, as always," Steve teased him, only to receive a grumble and a rude gesture for his trouble. Steve rolled his eyes but chuckled all the same. "Romanoff?"

"The usual, Rogers," Natasha answered him with a smirk as she began to pour the coffee that Pepper had begun to prepare for everyone as Steve asked Darcy and Jane what they wanted.

It was only a few minutes later that Steve plated the first omelet and slid it smoothly in front of Pepper. Tony eyed it as if it was poisoned and tried to steal it before Pepper smacked his hands away and took the first bite. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to savor it before she grinned.

"A working woman's breakfast, I love it," Pepper described happily. "Not as fancy as Tony's but filling and a good mix of everything… I suppose it's a tie between you two boys."

"Nope, I don't believe you," Tony cut in as he took a bite from it himself. He paused as he chewed on it then shook his head. "Nope, still not as good as mine."

"Nothing is ever as good as yours, Stark," Natasha sarcastically sassed the genius as Pepper swat the man for stealing some of her breakfast. "Don't listen to him, Rogers. He's just insecure around his girlfriend."

Steve merely shrugged and returned to cooking, all the while he shook his head with an amused smile on his lips. "I'm glad you like it, Pepper. And don't worry, Tony, I'd be cautious of letting the lovely Ms. Potts go anywhere near other men if I were dating her too."

Steve tossed a wink at Pepper, who chuckled into her next bite as Tony went off on that particular tangent and summarily distracted himself. Steve merely played the part of an innocent, which was true because he had no designs whatsoever on the high-class business woman who was the better half of the power-couple before him. Thor made himself a few pop-tarts to go along with his omelet, and Bruce made himself a large pot of tea instead of indulging in coffee like the rest of them. Steve instead focused on making breakfast for everyone, then enjoying his own when he finally got around to it.

As they all sat around the table enjoying their breakfast, Steve let a light sigh escape him as he ate. It was nice, living with all of them. He did miss some of the privacy, since Tony expected everyone to be in the common area most often, but he didn't mind it to much. He could always retreat to his floor if absolutely necessary.

After he finished with breakfast, however, Steve took his sketchpad and pencils over to the den and sat down to begin drawing while the rest of the room conversed idly. They joined him in the den, but none sat in a way that they could look at his work. Steve wasn't sure if that was out of respect for his privacy or just a matter of circumstance, or perhaps Natasha ensured he was left to his devices and privacy, he didn't know. It wasn't long, however, for someone to take notice of his habit, one formed during the time he spent with Natasha in the lead up to the war with Loki.

"Lord Steven, might I ask what is in the sketchbook?" Thor boomed from across the room as he and Jane finally approached the den where Steve was drawing. "I did not know you were an artist. Tell us, what images have you conjured upon the pages?"

"Nothing too important," Steve answered with a light shrug. One of his glances at Natasha, however, told her otherwise. She knew he drew things to let out certain feelings, emotions, or to get a better idea of his surroundings and the people in them. The look in his eye, however, told her this sketch was a little more personal than others she had glimpsed. "Just the sketches of a bored soldier."

"Oh really? How about we have a look then," Tony said as he and Pepper were on approach.

"Artists don't share their unfinished work, Tony, you know that," Pepper admonished him gently.

"Oh yeah, sure, take his side in this," the genius responded with a shake of his head. He pointed to Natasha and Clint as he and Pepper sat on the love seat with the best view of New York. "You know, you three have spent a lot of time together. I bet you know all sorts of secrets about Capsicle here that none of us have ever heard before. Come on, spill the beans."

"He makes a killer steak," Clint answered casually. "Pancakes too."

"And he cleans up after himself. I don't think our apartments have ever been so clean," Natasha mused with a smirk as Clint rolled his eyes in response to her thinly-veiled jab at him.

"Okay, sure, he's a nice roommate, but there's got to be more to it than that," Tony pressed. When he got no response, he resorted to default; complain to Pepper to get what he wanted. "Miss double-oh-seven over there needs to stop keeping secrets and let us in on some of the dirt. You were her boss once, Pepper, make her tell us."

"Double-oh-seven is not her serial number," Steve cut in and informed the room casually as if it was just natural to know that sort of thing. "And Romanoff isn't going to reveal my secrets because she likes me better than you."

"First, that's completely and blatantly untrue. Red has known me a lot longer than you and so naturally loves me," Tony answered completely seriously, which had Natasha raising an eyebrow at him as Clint snickered into his mug of coffee. Bruce shook his head, as did Jane and Darcy, while Thor looked on with some amusement at the exchange. "And second, I'm referring to her being a master spy with all of the cool toys, much like James Bond who is double-oh-seven."

"James Bond is a famous spy?" Steve wondered curiously.

A series of looks went around the room, each of them confused, amused, exasperated or concerned that Steve hadn't gotten the reference. It was Natasha, however, that stepped up to the plate.

"He's a character in a series of books by Ian Fleming that later became highly successful movies," the redhead explained easily after she finished her drink. "You should check them out, they're quite good, if nowhere near accurate compared to what we actually do."

"I'll add it to the list," Steve told her with a pleased no. He shut his sketchbook and reached into his pocket for the small notebook she gave him. Steve noticed a slight light in her eyes at the sight of it and he smiled lightly as he added "James Bond 007" to his list, right under a series of movies Clint and Natasha had suggested before.

"Wait, hold on, you're making a list of everything you don't know about the last 70-odd years?" Darcy chipped in suddenly.

"It's the best way to keep track of what I've experienced and what I haven't," Steve explained with ease, as if it was expected. "Most of the beginning is practical knowledge, history, technology, those sorts of things that I'm getting a hang of and crossing off pretty quickly. I haven't had much chance to explore the rest of it, though, given the training and catching up I'm doing with SHIELD."

Steve paused for just a moment as he turned the page and smiled at one entry on the list. "I put in Disney Animated Features on my own because Bucky and I used to go see those at the cinema when they first came out. He always said I'd be working for Walt Disney one day, something I had dreamed about doing back before the war. Never got the chance, though. I dropped out of art school because I needed to support myself after my mother died. Moved in with Bucky within a few months into our own apartment at 18, nearly 19 at the time."

It was, perhaps, the first very personal thing Steve had shared with the entire group at once. Most were a little stunned at first, though Natasha hid a fond smile for him behind her hair as she watched him, while Clint nodded lightly and a bit proudly, of his new friend. It wasn't hard to get Steve to tell minor anecdotes now and then but personal things, like that, were harder. He was closed off, kept himself contained, detached in a way, and that he was opening up to the rest of the Avengers was progress in the eyes of the two spies that were his closest friends, if they could be considered that, in the 21st century.

"So you just hear references to something and add it to the list once you get told more about it?" Bruce clarified for the group, at which Steve nodded. "Is Back to the Future on the list?"

"No, but that sounds interesting, and topical for me," Steve joked lightly as he turned the page back again and added it to his list.

"Oh he's going to love Spielberg's work," Jane chipped in happily. "How about Jaws?"

"Got that already, Clint referenced those movies once," Steve answered her with a grin as he remembered the conversation.

"You're gonna need a bigger boat to take Cap out," Clint said, almost word for word like before.

The pair chuckled at the memory of that conversation before Steve looked around the room. "Anything else?"

The discussion continued from there. Bruce suggested books the most out of everyone, as did Natasha. Thor actually mentioned a few foods Steve hadn't tried yet, which surprised him considering the demigod hadn't been on earth nearly as long as Steve had. Darcy explained it as her and Jane's own efforts to get Thor used to Earth that he knew about those things. Tony referenced various pop culture references, and Pepper recommended music and museums he might want to check out.

It was Darcy, however, that threw out a suggestion so casually it caught the room's attention with a bang. "Hey, what about Star Wars?"

Everyone in the room froze, including Thor, and turned their eyes on the Captain expectantly as Steve looked through his list and shook his head. "Nope, don't have that yet. Why? Is it any good?"

No-one gave him an answer, and Natasha was looking to Clint in disbelief. "How did we never mention that before?"

"You got me," Clint muttered, almost ashamed he had forgotten a cornerstone of popular culture from the past nearly 40 years.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are in the presence of the last and only unspoiled adult in the entire world…" Bruce announced in awe and astonishment.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful as you right now, Captain!" Tony exclaimed before he went rigid and his eyes widened. "Holy shit, that means he doesn't know about-"

Pepper quickly slapped her hand over Tony's mouth. " _No_ , Tony!"

"Spoilers, man! Come on! You know better than that!" Clint called out into the room.

"And we don't want anyone getting angry over spoilers," Natasha teased Bruce as the man rolled his eyes. "Thinking of spoilers," she continued as she turned back to Steve, and the rest of the room. "Sixth Sense? Harry Potter? Harry Potter actually has 7 books and 8 movies."

"I don't have those either," Steve said as he added them to the list as well, both amused and confused at the conversation he was now the main topic of.

"Okay, that's it," Tony finally got out after the others had suggested a number of popular movies that Steve hadn't yet added to his list or seen at all. "I'm repurposing one of your guest rooms into a home theater ASAP."

"Tony, you don't have to do that," Steve tried to dissuade him, to no avail.

"Nope! You get no choice. I'm your landlord while you're here and I'm adding a home theater to your floor," Tony commanded as he brought up some holographic specs with a single wave of his hand over the table. "Jarvis, I want the best Stark Industries has to offer for our endeavor. Only the best for our Captain."

"Of course, sir. I recommend the inside guest room would be the best place. Its size offers more space, and without windows you don't have to worry about outside light," the AI recommended professionally. "And it is closer to the den, which would be most appropriate for snacking opportunities."

Steve hung his head briefly and hid the shy smile on his face. He knew fighting Stark at this point would be fruitless, but he couldn't help but appreciate the gesture, even if it was too much. Stark wanted to help him acclimate to modern society, in his own way, and it was nice to have someone watch over him, even if it was by attempting to spoil him rotten.

"Alright, I give in, Tony," Steve sighed with a light smile. "I look forward to seeing the finished product, and you're all invited for a movie night once it's set up, if I have the room."

"Oh, we'll find the room, cap," Tony assured him with a driven grin as he and Jarvis continued working on various specs for the room. "Don't you worry. You're going to love it."

After the excitement that came of that, everyone calmed down and finished with a few more suggestions. Steve wrote them down and was finally allowed to lounge around with them and relax. Even so, his eyes tracked Tony and he began to sketch the man in secret. Watching Stark work on something scientific brought the light out in his eyes, but combining that with his love for pop culture? It brought the man alive, it seemed, and Steve couldn't help but draw the scene before him as Pepper and Jarvis offered a few suggestions now and then while the power-couple remained cuddled up on the couch as Tony worked. Tony's eyes often drifted fondly over to Pepper whenever she made a suggestion, and Steve had to sketch that moment for sure.

When Steve finished that sketch, he looked to the others and thought about doing the same with them. It had helped him to sketch a lot of things, more recently his teammates once he had accomplished drawing everything from his past that itched to get out of him. With them in mind, he continued drawing for the rest of the day, only stopping to enjoy lunch, dinner, and some movies with the team every so often. By the time he reached his bed, however, he couldn't help but wish that the next day never came.

***July 4th, 2012***

Steve awoke with the dawn, as he had since even before he joined the army. The bed was soft, so soft he felt it might consume him some days. He would have to ask Tony about a firmer mattress, and maybe even get the man to allow him to pay for his place. It bothered him, not paying his due, but he doubted it would ever be accepted. He sighed away those thoughts just as memories of his dreams surfaced. His chest clenched, and his gut twisted at the thought, because he knew those dreams were true, in a way.

 _Surrounded by people… and yet I'm still alone._

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and got ready for the day. By the time he as leaving his room, he noticed a number of boxes next to his door that weren't there last night. He had ordered the books and movies everyone had suggested and apparently, they got delivered overnight. No doubt that was JARVIS's doing, or Stark's. Steve shook his head and brought them into his apartment proper before he looked through them. He grabbed the Harry Potter books that came in a collector's box and placed everything else near the shelves. He would deal with those later.

Steve grabbed his sketchbook and pencils just in case he got inspired and quickly made his way to the common floor again and made a quick breakfast from leftover omelets that he had made as a precaution. He turned them into a sandwich, a habit he was picking up from Clint, and hoped he could be left alone today, or at least that he could hide his not-so-secret secret. Nobody was up by the time he finished his breakfast, thankfully, and Steve quickly made his way to the den and began to read.

An hour later he was well into the first book when Natasha entered the room. She paused near the kitchen as she watched him and shook her head. He was incredibly intelligent, and his reading speed astounded her sometimes, despite being able to do the same herself. Her serum wasn't all that different from his own, just subtler considering she had been healthy and above average to begin with. She moved silently, although she knew he was aware of her, he always seemed to be aware of everything.

 _Living in a war zone for a few years will do that to you…_

She shook the thought aside and mimicked Steve without knowing as she made a sandwich out of leftover omelet while she had coffee brewing nearby. It didn't affect her or Steve like it did everyone else, but it was normal, comforting even, to indulge in something regular people did so often. Her attention shifted to Steve again as she prepared her breakfast, and she wondered what was going through his mind because she knew that look on his face.

 _He's working frustrations off._

A lot of people thought Steve would always go to the gym to punch his way through a few heavy bags, a rumor started by him doing it only a few times at SHIELD. Instead, however, Steve was primarily the bookish sort, a bookworm who would find the nearest set of books and read through them all night if that's what it took to get his mind off something. It was a habit from the days before his transformation, all done to immerse himself in a reality not his own, to allow him an escape and time to come to terms with what was actually going on around him.

 _He must feel like the world is a waking dream sometimes,_ Natasha mused in her head as she saw him turn yet another page before even half a minute had passed. _I hope you can find something to make the world feel real Rogers… and when you do, I'd like to know what it is because sometimes I feel the same way._

Her coffee finished just in time for the microwave to ding and let her know that her sandwich was ready. She poured herself a large mug of coffee, doctored it up a little, grabbed her food and made her way to the den without a word. Steve acknowledged her with a light nod, something she returned without issue as she sat on the other end of the couch with her food. It was companionable for them to just sit in the quiet and feel the other's presence, to not have to be bothered with social interactions all the time. She enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed hers, and no words had to be said sometimes.

 _Although I do love to tease that boy something terrible,_ she thought with a smirk as she bit into her sandwich again.

By the time Clint joined them in the den with his own sandwich and pot of coffee, because heaven forbid he just pour it into a mug some mornings, Steve closed the first book of Harry Potter with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Something on your mind?" Natasha wondered curiously.

"I'll probably get it answered as I keep reading," Steve answered her as he slipped the book back into the box and took out the second. "But I get the feeling I'm reading the life of a child soldier in the making. Those obstacles seemed too simple if those three kids got passed them and it doesn't sit right with me. Something's up."

 _You have no idea, Rogers,_ Natasha thought with a tilt of her head. "Well, keep reading and find out. I won't stop you and I'll shoot anyone if they try to spoil it for you."

"Spoil Harry Potter?" Clint asked, astonished. "Never! I'll shoot them too for the trouble."

"How kind of you," Steve sassed the pair of them lightly before a thought struck him. "What are your Houses, do you think?"

"There's a test online, actually," Clint informed him. "We'll find it for you later. You might end up a Ravenclaw, though anyone else would call you a Gryffindor without a doubt."

"I think he fits all of the Hogwarts Houses, personally," Natasha countered Clint's argument lightly. "But I will say that I'm a Slytherin, ambition and resourcefulness in plenty."

"I'm a Hufflepuff," Clint admitted with a light shrug. "Loyalty, kindness, and good at finding things and friends… I think I've found the best of them though."

"Yeah, you and Natasha make a great pair of best friends, Clint," Steve said with a light grin as he examined the cover art of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. "Dangerous too, with your house combinations I'll bet."

After a brief pause, Clint smiled at the Captain and spoke gently. "I meant you too, Steve. I consider you a friend."

Steve froze as a rock appeared in his throat and his eyes locked with Clint's perceptive gaze across the coffee table.

"Natasha may be my best friend but you're still a friend to me, Steve," Clint told him confidently, a kind smile on his face. "You have been since you trusted me on the Helicarrier and I've always been honest with you, even if I haven't been an open book."

"But you've only known me two and a half months," Steve whispered in disbelief.

"And we've lived together for most of that time. Sometimes you just click with people," Clint cut in quickly. "You, me, Tasha, we click. The moment you signed to me to make me more comfortable around you, when you yourself had just woken up in a new century, I knew we had found someone special, even if you are just a kid from Brooklyn. Yeah, sure, it takes time and all that, but I am honest when I say you are my friend. We may not be as close as Tasha and I are, but we'll get there when we're both ready."

Steve remained quiet as Clint spoke, and all the while he tried to dislodge the stone in his throat that tried to choke him up. Natasha sitting nearby, had a small smile on her lips as she watched them, and that made it even more real for Steve. With a slight huff, almost a laugh and a sigh all at once, he smiled and nodded to the archer who was now his second favorite person in the world.

Steve set down his book and began to move his hands. " _Thank you, Clint._ "

" _You're welcome,_ " Clint signed right back with a grin. "Now, read that book so we can talk about the ending."

Steve snorted at that. "You giving me orders, Barton?"

"You bet your pretty American flag covered ass I am, Rogers."

Steve chuckled and nodded as he picked the book back up. He didn't dare glance at Natasha right then, because he was afraid he would see rejection, that she didn't want to be his best friend, or that she didn't feel the way Clint did. So Steve kept his mind on task, and prayed he was wrong and just doubted himself more than he doubted Natasha's feelings and personality.

 _It's hard getting to know and trust someone that could be anybody…_ A voice in the back of his head reminded him.

But Steve forced that thought away, pushed it deep down and focused on the book instead. He tried to slow his reading, so his frustration wouldn't leak, but with Clint's words so fresh in his mind, it was easy enough to settle in and read quickly without seeming anxious. He took one deep breath and quickly began to immerse himself in the beloved novel series of millions. If he had his way, he'd spend the entire day reading before he enjoyed a nice steak dinner with some sparklers or poppers, but he doubted that would happen.

As the others woke up and arrived in the kitchen, Steve noticed them occasionally lowering their voices as conversations shifted to and fro. He feigned ignorance to any reference to it being Independence Day, and especially didn't pay any mind to whispers that mentioned him. They knew, he was sure they knew, hell everyone in the world probably knew what today was for him, but he didn't want anything to do with it. He had received a number of requests via Maria for him to attend various gatherings with important politicians and military personnel today, and he had refused them all.

 _I'm spending today alone, or as alone as I can be here. I just hope they don't make a fuss._ He glanced across the way to Clint who was watching Dog Cops, and then to Natasha on the other side of the couch from him where she was reading a different novel as he resisted the gentle tug on his lips. _Well, maybe I'm not as alone as I thought I was._

The moment he finished the second book, he looked to Clint. "The fight with the basilisk is what you wanted to talk about, right?" Clint nodded eagerly as he paused the show on Netflix. "We'd use my shield to keep us covered and you take its eyes out from range at my signal before Natasha slips in and blows its brains out with a hail of Glock 26 gunfire."

"Fuck," the archer muttered as he took out his wallet. He took a twenty from it and handed it to Natasha, who smirked and slipped it down into her blouse and bra, distracting Steve for a moment as the act usually did. "How did you know, Tasha?"

"A Slytherin never tells," she teased with a wink. "But apparently Rogers and I think more alike than you two do."

"Did you seriously just concoct a plan to kill the basilisk from Chamber of Secrets?" Tony asked suddenly from his place at Pepper's side.

"The moment I learned what it was and what it could do, honestly," Steve said with a shrug. "Threat assessment is a specialty. I have a plan for everyone and everything I could encounter."

"So, you really are the _Star-Spangled Man With A Plan_?" Natasha drew it out just to tease him.

"That is never going away, is it?" he groused as the rest of the room was overcome with chuckles, snickers, and full-blown laughter. Steve put the second book away and took out the third. "Quit busting my chops, youngsters, and let me read."

If anything that only made the laughter louder, but Steve ignored it. In fact, it worked in his favor because their conversations turned to witty banter for a while and let him be. It was Pepper, of all people, that finally made an announcement.

"Alright everyone, I think it's time for us to start getting ready for tonight," she called to the room as she stood up from her chair. "I am having a proper Fourth of July with my friends and I'm not going to let anyone spoil that." She turned to Steve and walked toward him quickly. "Steve? You talked about that butcher yesterday, are they still in business?"

"Why would you ask me when you can ask Jarvis who has up to the second information?" he asked her with a light grin.

"Because I'm sure you checked for any sign of familiarity in Brooklyn besides Coney Island when you had the time," Pepper stated perceptively, and she was right. "So?"

"Luckily, yeah, and the same family still owns it too."

"Is that where you got those steaks last month?" Clint wondered. When Steve nodded, his stomach almost growled. "I'm in for a grocery run."

"Mind grabbing some steak, ribs, and all the best cuts of everything else?" Pepper said with a cute, undeniable pout. "Pretty please, for me?"

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes as he shut the book. "No need to use those eyes on me, Pepper. You could have just asked." She beamed at him in victory as he stood up. "But if I'm going there, I'm going to grab some other meat and groceries too."

"Then it's all my treat since you're going all that way to get it," Pepper said as she took a credit card from her back pocket and pressed it into his hand. "No exceptions, or I'll _let_ Tony ask you about your love life."

"That's blackmail, Ms. Potts," he resigned himself and teased her all at once. "Fine."

"Thank you so much, Steve," Pepper said with an even wider smile than before. "When you get back just drop them at the front desk so you can stop and dress into something nice for tonight, alright? Not all the way up to black tie, but something close to smart casual."

"Knowing Tony, it might as well be a Black-Tie Tom Ford three-piece suit," Steve said with a wink at the genius.

"I'll make it blue just for you, Capsicle," Tony snarked right back. "And how the hell do you know about my wardrobe?"

"Because I point it out every time we see you on tv, which is often," Clint said without a hint of remorse as he put on his jacket and handed Steve his own after he had retrieved them. "Come on, Steve, let's show them what real meat is."

"Hmm, is that a different kind of offer, boys? Because I'll need to call Maria if we're allowing that level of _clearance_ , and she'll _want_ to be here for it," Natasha taunted them with her sultry, smoky voice that could seduce any man on the spot.

She remembered the day they had actually convinced Steve to go shirtless in the gym, just to see the reactions from others, and Clint had done it as well, just so Steve wouldn't feel as self-conscious. Natasha had been impressed and attracted for sure, Maria had as well, and just about every other female agent had sent out the word that Steve was shirtless. She was sure pictures had been taken from every possible angle and had made thorough circulation among SHIELD channels. The twist in Steve's face was priceless, but her indelible smirk remained as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You just had to say it that way didn't you, Barton?" Steve said as he admirably resisted a blush before he managed to look Natasha in the eye. "You have a dirty mind, Romanoff. I better not find cameras in the showers after this." He took a few steps then paused to look at his books and sketchpad. "Oh, and if anyone messes with my bookmark or looks in my sketchpad, you have my permission to shoot 'em, politely of course."

Natasha's smirk widened at that as she reached down her back and drew her Glock 26 before she cocked it for show and winked at him. And with that, Steve quickly grabbed Clint by the arm and marched them out. All the while Clint was laughing his ass off and Steve shook his head. Even after the elevator ride down Clint was still trying to regain control of himself. As soon as they reached the archer's car, however, he finally composed himself and looked over to Steve.

"You do know what they're doing, right?" Clint asked with the remnants of his amusement marring the concerned tone he spoke with.

"I'd rather not think about it," Steve confessed quietly.

"Right…" the archer sighed as he drove them out onto the streets of New York. "Is this about it being your birthday and how it's a huge coincidence that it's also Independence Day, or about it being us and not the people of your past that are here with you? Or am I way off the mark for once?"

Steve admirably maintained his normal expression as he offered a light shake of his head. "I'm not sure, honestly, not anymore."

"Why not?"

Steve's lips quirked lightly as he looked over at Clint. "Because I actually have a friend here now… Maybe more."

"Maybe?" Clint wondered with a smile. "So, what, you've only got me?"

"I guess. I don't really know what Natasha and I are besides teammates," revealed the soldier as he returned his gaze to the streets. "I haven't had the courage to ask if…"

"What?" Clint pressed him gently.

"If she was serious when she told me she actually does care the night you and Coulson left for the Tesseract facility," Steve told him hesitantly. "It's honestly hard to get a read on her when she can be whoever she wants to be at any time."

Clint shook his head and snorted in amusement and disbelief. "Steve, I wouldn't have admitted you were my friend in front of her if I thought she didn't care about you too. And, she never puts on a different persona for you, not ever. What you have seen of her when it's the three of us or just the pair of you? That's her, completely, and she doesn't _want_ to hide from you like she does with most everyone else."

Steve was quiet for a few moments before her offered a slow smile. "That's two times I have to thank you today. Not a bad gift to get from you, making me feel better."

"Oh, just wait until you get my actual gift," Clint told him with a grin. "Now let's get some grub before it's all sold out and give them a chance to 'surprise' you with a party."

"Good point. So, should I play along like the gullible 40s-man stereotype or just deadpan it for kicks?"

Steve's question made Clint snort and laugh, and Steve chuckled along with him as they discussed the merits of both options. Their time at the grocer and butcher was pretty quick, all things considered. Of course, when you're actually polite and kind to everyone they tend to have no problem helping you or getting out of your way. Plus, being celebrity heroes helped, though Steve neglected that aspect of his encounters as much as was polite, and Clint laughed it up.

When they got back Happy greeted them at the car and began loading everything onto a cart. Steve and Clint helped before they made their way to the elevator. Steve got off at his floor and ignored Clint's wink as he did. It didn't take him long to get ready, as an outfit had been set out for him. He was about to wonder who prepared it when he caught the scent of honey he had begun to associate with Natasha.

He chuckled as he noticed the dark blue slacks and blazer, paired with a crisp white shirt, a white belt with a square buckle, and an American flag tie. He shook his head at the tie and tossed it aside. As much as he appreciated formality, he was not wearing that monstrosity, but he would wear the rest of it. He glanced to his closet and debated his old army uniform before he shook his head. It was true he was patriotic, and that he had served, but tonight he knew was going to be as much about him as it was celebrating America itself.

In no time he got ready, the blue slacks fit well and outlined his legs perfectly along with the white belt, and his white shirt hugged his body, but not too tightly to be tacky. The blue blazer was quite comfortable and breathed easier than other jackets he had worn. He felt comfortable in this, and with a grin he realized the tie had been a joke to Natasha all along, and she knew he would enjoy this outfit itself for its simplicity and comfort.

He made his way to the elevator, and after waiting a few moments it opened to reveal Clint of all people, wearing a white blazer and a blue shirt with white slacks and a blue belt. Steve couldn't contain his grin and Clint rolled his eyes. As Steve pressed the button for the common floor, he looked over at his friend.

"Natasha leave you a tie to go with that?"

"Yeah, covered in a bold as brass bald eagle to boot. You?"

"Mine was the American flag." They chuckled together and shook their heads. "I guess she took all the red to herself."

"She's Russian, of course she kept all of the red to herself," Clint sassed with a smirk.

The pair laughed lightly at that before the elevator arrived at its destination. Steve took a breath to steady himself. It was his first real party since he and the Howlies had managed to find an intact pub and celebrate, though this party was a bit fancier than that. Clint nudged him minutely, and Steve offered a nod at the man's gesture of support. The doors opened, and Steve was met with a view that he expected, but also had him stunned.

There she was: Natasha Romanoff, the Woman in the Red Dress, and she was _magnificent_. Steve felt like he was punched in the gut as he took her in as all else fell away from his senses. Her hair fell in gentle waves about her face and shoulders, no longer tightly curled around her jaw as it had been before. Her lips were the red of strawberries, but her eyes, those beautiful orbs of green were as precious as the jade they captured so beautifully. Her makeup was light and flawless, showing her for who she was not to the room, but to him, to Steve.

Her dress flattered her in ways that would have men trapped in her beauty and charm, just like Steve was in that moment. Elegant straps met a gentle scoop-neck that showed a tasteful view of her cleavage that enhanced and highlighted her bust all at once. The smooth red silk gown cradled her body, traced the fine curves of her form and outlined her round hips to perfection. A slit up the side of the dress revealed one of her pale, gorgeous legs before the dress floated across the surface of the floor and showed off her red heels.

"Beautiful," Steve barely breathed; and he knew that somehow, she heard his whispered declaration where no-one else could.

" _Surprise!_ "

Steve almost didn't register the exclamation as he finally stepped out of the elevator with Clint. He didn't have to act stunned, however, because Natasha had taken care of that, and he somehow knew she had done it just for his benefit, and perhaps to help the group with their grand gesture just a little bit. Steve caught her gaze, her laughing eyes were filled with an emotion he couldn't quite discern, but he didn't care. She looked happy, and it was enough to make him smile and laugh as he approached the group and their tastefully decorated party, even if some of them, namely Natasha, Pepper and Tony, had definitely dressed up more than the rest.

Pepper approached him first and gave him a hug, followed by the rest as he made the rounds between them. He thanked everyone for coming and saw some faces he had not quite expected. Maria had come, thankfully, as she was someone whose company Steve quite enjoyed. Phil Coulson had come, along with Melinda May and surprisingly Nick Fury. Aside from them, Steve met James Rhodes finally, a man he'd heard a few anecdotes from Tony about and found to be quite a good man. Eric Selvig had finally rejoined Jane, Darcy and Thor at the Tower while Steve was gone, and he was happy to see the man fully recovered from his time with Loki.

Steve felt a glass of champagne gently eased into his hand by Natasha and he smiled at her as she approached. She captured his attention like none other in the room and he was glad to have her by his side. Clint joined them a minute later with his own glass and a wide grin. A gentle tinkling began as Tony tapped a spoon to his champagne flute and everyone's attention turned to the host of the party.

"Although today is meant to celebrate another year of our great nation, America if you're at all confused or have been living under a rock, today is more than that for us," Tony announced proudly and genuinely with a charming grin as he looked around to the assembled Avengers and their closest friends and allies. "Today we celebrate the birth of one of our own. This is his 94th year of being a good man, and may he have many more ahead of him! So I wish to be the first to say Happy Birthday, to Our One and Only Captain: Steve Rogers, Ladies and Gentlemen! Happy Birthday Steve!"

The chorus of "Happy Birthday Steve" that followed Tony's brief, but charismatic and genuine wish of a Happy Birthday flowed around Steve. He raised his glass of champagne and toasted with everyone else to the hope that he would have many more years to come, and silently to his own wish. However, there was one addendum he had to make as everyone settled into their own conversations.

"It's my 27th, actually…" Steve murmured to himself.

Natasha had heard Steve's declaration of "Beautiful" and was touched by it. She had heard it so often from marks and colleagues looking to get into her pants that she usually just tossed the compliment aside. But Steve? He meant it, and it was touching in a way she thought only a select few could reach her with, and it left her feeling warm.

Steve himself looked quite handsome, good enough to eat if she was honest with herself. She thanked her good sense of fashion for choosing that particular outfit and enjoyed his smile as she rejoined him with a flute of champagne in hand just for him, as his expression made him all the more handsome. Natasha indulged Tony and his speech just long enough for the toast. She was moments from pulling Steve aside when she heard the murmured words under his breath.

They teased him so often about being a gentleman, old-fashioned, or an old man because of how he acted. In reality, he was only 27 years old, and Natasha had to admit she had forgotten that on occasion. He was half a year younger than herself and had lost everything, had fought a war and been instrumental in its victory and saving the lives of countless millions. He may not have her sordid and bloodstained past, but his hands were hardly dry of blood and though his experience was far removed from everyone else's, she empathized with the pain, heartache and rigors of his own past.

 _So young, and yet so old…_ Natasha thought as she watched him smile to everyone and continue to sip his drink as they all talked and personally gave their wishes to him. _But it's time I show him he's not alone._

The entire party made their orders with the grill-master chef that was cooking for them along with his small select staff in the kitchen of the commons. Afterwards, they all began chatting with one another for a while, and she could tell Steve was uncomfortable with so much attention focused on him beneath that personable, social, and outgoing mask he wore that was so perfect; and it was called Captain America.

Steve the person, however, saw the large number of gifts waiting for him and Natasha knew he could hardly believe it, as he shook his head and backed away from it, saying he would tackle that mountain later. Natasha, however, had seen enough and eased his discomfort with a touch of her hand to his as she walked with him. Her company, quiet and subtle as it was, eased the tension out of Steve and he smiled gratefully at her.

All through dinner they enjoyed light conversation and Steve played his Captain America and Old Man roles to perfection and regaled them with a few anecdotes of previous Independence Day Celebrations he had been a part of. When she or Clint asked him something, as they sat to either side of him, he answered them honestly, with no pretense and thanked them silently with every smile, nod and gesture.

As Steve tucked into his meal, Natasha couldn't help the wry grin that tugged at her lips as she watched him immerse himself in the moment. They all sometimes forgot that he grew up in the Great Depression, and meals like this were to be savored for everything they were worth. She took up the habit herself and she had to admit, it felt good to take her time with her meal and enjoy conversation as they ate without complaint.

To Steve's relief, and her own, Tony did not break out a cake just yet, and allowed everyone to digest and converse for a while and just enjoy the moment. The conversations ranged from work related, to planned vacations, and in some cases recent films or book discoveries. Steve eventually worked his way to the balcony on his own, and Natasha knew the time was right to approach him.

"So, Rogers, you're actually 27 huh? Not bad for an old timer, although I suppose that makes you a just a little sprog too," Natasha teased him lightly as she sauntered up and joined him out on the balcony. "You're just full of contradictions."

"I'm not the only one," he responded with a half-smile of appreciation. He took a long look at her one more time, memorizing her in the dress as he had been doing all night, so he could perhaps make a few sketches or paintings, with her permission. Surprise, however, did touch his features briefly, though he was glad someone had noticed and bothered to bring it up, especially Natasha.

"So, why so somber about it?" Natasha questioned him carefully as he leaned against the railing and looked out over the city.

"I actually got to 27," he spoke so softly she barely heard him until he regained more of his voice. "The irony of my past likes to remind me I didn't make it to that age after the serum up until the crash. Before the serum, before my transformation, before Captain America and everything that came with it; I was told by doctors, including Erskine himself, that I wouldn't reach 27 because I would waste away due to sickness or infection, and if I did somehow survive to 27 then it would be a miracle if I ever reached 30. I still think that is a miracle, actually."

"Then I'll make sure you reach it… That we both do, actually." He looked at her in confusion and surprise in equal measure, something she herself hadn't expected. Natasha couldn't help but sigh lightly as she leaned against the railing with him, as she knew this conversation, or part of it least, was a long time in coming, and she had to admit a little uncomfortable for her, being so open with him. "I was born November 22nd, 1984. I'll turn 28 in November. Maria turned 30 on April 4th, just about two weeks before you woke up. Clint is next youngest of our friends besides Pepper, and he was born January 7th, 1971, a good thirteen years older than us, even if he doesn't act like it. Pepper is only 35 herself."

It was a clinical explanation, one that Natasha didn't mind. What came next, however, she cared about far more, and it was time to see his reaction, to see if they really could be more than teammates. "I know what it's like to expect death at every turn though. My life wasn't easy by any means with the Red Room and the KGB, and I could have been killed by my own allies at any time if they desired it. Well, they would try at least, but I always had the upper-hand in some way if I could help it, namely information and stowed away funds and identities. Even so, I never believed I would make it to 30 either because in our line of work, people die early all the time… And I'm honest when I say I don't want to die young, and I don't want to leave people behind either. So, let's make this promise to one another: that we both make it to 30. Do you promise me?"

He was quiet for some moments, overcome in thought about everything she had just told him. They were so much closer in age than the rest of the Avengers, and they had a lot to deal with at their age. But one thing did strike him, briefly, and he hated himself for feeling like he had to ask the question, and Natasha could tell because it was written all over his face as he spoke to her.

"…Is that the truth?"

"I never lie to you if I can help it, Rogers, you know that. But truth is a matter of circumstance, it's not all things to all people all the time," she finished with her all-knowing grin. "And neither am I. But I am telling you the truth about this, Steve. I'll always be honest with you if I can, just like now."

"It's great that you want to be honest with me," Steve mused thoughtfully before his soul-searching gaze met hers again. "But that's a tough way to live."

"It's a good way not to die though."

"You know it's kinda hard to trust someone," he told her softly, "when you don't know who that someone really is."

"Yeah?" she looked away from him and out toward the city, if only for a moment before she turned her attention back to him, her gaze locked on his own. "Who do you want me to be?"

"How about a friend?"

She snorted lightly at that and smirked. "Well there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers." Steve looked away at that, and she refused to feel the spark of hurt as she continued; even if she knew he had been hurt, however briefly, and she wished to give him a balm for it, especially because it was true. "Because you can't tell that we're already friends, and I'm not an easy friend to have."

The smile that lit up his face was small, almost subtle as he let a part of himself through the stoic mask he had worn moments ago and decided to wear when she had almost hurt him. In fact, his expression brightened into a wry grin as his gaze met hers. "I'm glad, but I'll bet you're worth the trouble."

"Oh yeah? Worth the trouble of making that promise to me?" Natasha pressed him, and searched his gaze, quietly urging him, and hoping that he would. "Promise me we'll both make it to 30?"

"Yeah… I promise you that we'll make it, no matter what it takes."

"Good, because I promise that to you too." They settled back into their usual companionable quiet, glad to have that settled between them. It was a weight off his shoulders, Natasha knew, and she felt lighter for having cleared the air that much with him. It felt good, liberating even, and she found herself fonder of him than before in that moment. Although, there was one thing she was curious about. "Was that why you didn't like the old man jokes when they started up?"

"Because I thought I'd never live to be one?" She nodded to him and Steve sighed before he returned the gesture. "Yeah, but I know you're just having fun, and I'm getting used to it. Besides, I can always make fun of you for being Russian, or a redhead, if that's even your natural hair color."

"Now I'm wondering if you're worth the trouble, Rogers." He smirked at her, and she smirked right back. Natasha looked around the room and noticed Tony taking Pepper to the dance floor as the music began to slow. Her smirk became subtler as she looked to Steve, overcome with a desire she hadn't felt in a while, and she wasn't going to let an opportunity pass her by. She placed a hand on his arm and drew his attention to her again. "Am I worth the trouble of a dance?"

"Is that your way of asking me to dance?" Steve wondered with a smile. Natasha nodded, and Steve bowed his head lightly and let out a slight huff, caught somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "I… This is stupid but, I don't know how."

Natasha offered him a rare smile, genuine and happy as she slipped her hand down his arm and into his hand as she gently grasped it. "Then I'll show you how, Steve."

Steve perked up at those words, because they were almost exactly what Peggy had said so long ago. His gaze locked on hers, so open and full of conflicting emotions. Part of him was pained by the reminder of his past, but another part, the greater part of him that had given into the idea that he was starting over sang Natasha's praises for opening up to him and opening himself up to her. A soft smile slowly encroached upon his lips and he nodded.

"Then lead the way, Natasha."

Natasha said no words. She didn't need to. Instead she took him back inside and to the dance floor beside Tony and Pepper. While the experienced couple did a few twirls and the like, she kept it simple for Steve. She would properly teach him later, but for now she was just happy to have a dance with him on his birthday: his first since so long ago. She put a hand on his shoulder, and his own went gently to her waist. She held out her hand and he grasped it gently. He knew this at least, and within a few small moments, they swayed to the music, their steps light and small but no less meaningful.

Natasha finally looked up to his eyes and found them coming up to look at her in turn. A sigh escaped him, and that's when Natasha _felt_ it; the change in him. Steve was relaxed, utterly and completely at ease in her arms he had found somewhere to let all of the tension, all of the pain and memory wash away and leave him with just the moment. There was no right and wrong, no past or future to confuse and question him. He had let go of something and found something else; found pieces of the puzzle that fit just right so he could finally be at ease, with her of all people at that. It was just them, and it showed in every last bit of him as if his entire body and mind finally could take a breath.

The warmth that suffused Natasha at the sight loosened her own tensions, let her own concerns and worries, her own past and future, drift away in the wake of this moment they shared together. If Steve could relax in her arms during something so innocent as a dance, Natasha could do no less, so she let it all go as she danced with him. As their gazes met and locked on one another, her lips quirked in a subtle smile, soft and light, real in every sense of the word, and Steve returned it with one of his own.

When the music finally came to an end, Natasha stood on the tips of her toes and laid claim to his cheek with a soft kiss. The gentle chirp of it was so soft, and both his cheek and her lips were aflame briefly as they eased apart.

"Thanks for the dance, Steve," she whispered to him. "Happy Birthday."

"No, Natasha," he murmured in return as he held her jade gaze just a moment longer with his sapphire orbs. "Thank you. All of this was the best gift I could have gotten tonight."

Another smile creased Natasha's lips as she looked up at him. "We'll see about that. You have yet to open any of them."

"Sometimes you never even have to open the best gifts," he sighed to her with a light laugh. "Sometimes those you care about give you something nobody can take away from you. Your friendship, the pleasure of your company, that's all the gift I need."

Natasha felt a brief flutter somewhere inside before she regained control and she smirked. "You're damn right that's the best gift you're going to get, and Barton will just have to settle for second." Steve laughed as they parted just a little more and walked off the dance floor to get another drink. "But it's nice to get the gift of your friendship too, Steve."

Steve smiled after her while she poured them a couple of drinks. When Steve looked out at the rest of the room, Clint winked and raised a glass to him as if he knew what had just happened between the pair of them. Steve toasted to him across the room before he settled against the bar with a smile and spoke easily with Natasha as she played bartender.

Eventually, however, some of Tony's theatrics won out. A large cake was wheeled out with Steve's shield painstakingly detailed in the center, surrounded by no less than 94 candles that in the span of a minute Tony lit with a quick sweep of a special laser. Steve quickly blew out 67 to take care of his years in the ice, and when he had the last 27 left, he closed his eyes and made a wish, not the first he had in the century, but perhaps the most important, before he blew out the true amount of candles he needed.

When they finally cut into it, Steve was quite happy to discover chocolate cake with chocolate filling between the two layers instead of the white frosting that covered most of the cake. Of course, Steve cut out the star first just to irk Tony and make the rest of them laugh before he cut pieces for the rest of them. It was some damn good cake, better than his mother's he had to admit, and he could tell Tony and Pepper had spared no expense in preparing for tonight. He would have to thank them.

Steve had tried to resist opening presents until he was in private, but eventually gave in to pressure from everyone else. Tony gave him a very nice 40s styled watch, which also had a number of other functions; including playing music and setting alarms with a holographic display, as well as tracking his movements for the Avengers instead of letting SHIELD always know where he was. Tony didn't stop there, however, and set Steve up with a gauntlet and harness that would help recall his shield, along with an assortment of other gadgets that Steve would explore later. Pepper, of course, had noticed Steve's artistic interests and had bought him a very generous gift card for a high-class art supply store, as she wasn't sure which paints or supplies he would want. He had given her a hug for that one, much to Tony's complaining that he hadn't gotten a hug, which just had both Pepper and Steve rolling their eyes at him.

Bruce had gotten him a variety of books about the world, and manuals for emergency medical procedures, as he had witnessed Steve stocking a medkit to carry on occasion and wanted to help him be ready for anything. Steve had been quite pleased, and they chatted briefly about Steve learning a few nursing skills from his mother and during his training before he continued opening gifts, though Bruce agreed to teach Steve a little more at another time. Rhodes got him a gift card for Amazon, as the pair didn't know each-other very well, but the Captain was thankful regardless of the somewhat impersonal gift.

Jane, Darcy and Eric Selvig had gotten Steve a series of gift cards for various places they found helped Thor acclimatize to life on earth, which he felt was very thoughtful. Thor brought Steve a large tome on Asgardian military history, which Steve thanked him profusely for and said would be invaluable for learning their tactics and how best to work with Thor. Needless to say, Thor thought that response worthy of revels and got them two enormous beers he insisted they drain before Steve continued unwrapping gifts. He obliged with a good-natured grin and was only a half-second behind the god of thunder when they set their steins down with victorious thumps.

Maria had gotten Steve a few books and some clothes, which he thanked her for. She mentioned briefly something about Natasha's suggestion for a "greater reveal of classified information", which had him staring at Natasha only to see her smirking into another champagne flute. Thankfully he was rescued from any questions about "clearance" by Coulson. The kind agent gave him a set of cook books, since he knew Steve liked to cook rather than spend more money on eating out, along with a few art books he knew Steve didn't have yet. Steve had met Melinda May only a few times when she was with Coulson when they were visiting him or when he visited the team, but she gave him a gift card regardless, and a collapsing baton that would comfortably fit in a pocket so he could carry at least one helpful tool around civilians without being noticeable. Fury, however, gave Steve a list of the locations of every last family member of the Howling Commandos so Steve could visit them at some point if he wanted. That and a scrambling device so his communications couldn't be tapped and his phone tracked if he didn't want to be. Despite the careful gift selection, Steve thanked the colonel profusely for his gift before he reached the last set.

Steve was, admittedly, a bit apprehensive of opening gifts from Natasha and Clint; not because he was afraid they would hurt him, but because these would no doubt be the most personal gifts. They had apparently gone in together on it and had two gifts waiting for him. Steve took the larger of the two first, thinking it was something practical but personal. He tore the wrapping paper carefully and opened the box to see two books inside; one labeled 1918-1945, and the other 21st century Volume 1.

He had a feeling of what he was about to encounter and as Steve opened the cover of the one from his previous time, he knew he was right. It was a photo album that documented him, his family, and his friends as much as was possible, though few photos existed besides a few from his childhood of him and Bucky. Only when he hit his 20s was there an uptick in the number of photos, Bucky's doing again, but also that of the army and his celebrity status. There were pictures of everyone he had ever been close to inside, moments he had neglected in his memories of late but were now clear as day before his very eyes.

"This must have taken you ages…" he barely breathed.

"We started it after you joined our team, and sorry to say we took a few liberties getting them by raiding your boxes," Clint said with an apologetic grin. "It was Tasha's idea, giving you something you could have to put all of your past in one place besides your sketchbooks."

"Clint and I sifted through the photos you had, then scrounged around for the rest from every source we could think of or hunt down," Natasha revealed to him as she set a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, I love it," he told them with a beaming grin before he set it aside and picked up the other. It was pictures of him in the 21st century, including their first meeting. Steve chuckled lightly at the picture of Natasha returning his dog tags. "I like that one."

"About the only time we allowed any kind of surveillance in our suite," Clint told him happily. "We kept it up afterwards in the hopes to get a few more kodak moments. As you can see, we did."

Steve flipped through the pages, admiring the dedication this took on both of their behalves. Many of the pages were unfilled, but it was signed by both of them with a promise to help him fill it with good memories as his friends. He smiled at their writing, how different it was. Natasha's was smooth and elegant, but efficient, while Clint's was slightly messy, but distinctive, angled more than most people's handwriting.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank us just yet," Clint said as he grabbed the other gift and handed it over.

Steve weighed it carefully, unsure of what was inside, but eager to find out after the scrapbooked photo-albums. He took off the wrapping paper and deliberately opened the small box only to freeze. In the next instant, the top of the box dropped from his hand as Steve reached inside to cradle a picture in a silver frame in both hands, the most precious picture Steve had ever owned.

"I thought this was lost," Steve barely breathed as he caressed the cheek of the woman in the photograph. "Someone broke into our old apartment when we were in the service. They took everything of value and any _memorabilia_ they could get their hands on," Steve almost growled before his voice softened and cracked lightly. "I thought I'd never see this picture of my mother ever again… The only one in existence…" Steve fell into his memories, remembering everything his mother ever did for him before he came out of his reverie as tears welled in his eyes as he looked up to his friends. "Clint, Natasha, where did you find this?"

"You know that mission a little over two weeks ago?" the archer began softly. Steve nodded, and Clint couldn't help but smile. "That was actually a retrieval mission that Tasha and I decided to go on. You had mentioned before that you wish you still had that picture of your mom, and Natasha finally found a lead. We hunted this thing down for weeks before that and when we found it, it was in an old storage container, belonging to the family of the guy that took it. He's long dead now and the family was so sorry about him having taken it and instantly tried to make it right. The picture was dirty and a little battered, but Natasha was able to restore it and find a nice frame to put it in."

Clint had just barely finished when Steve stood up and pulled them both into a close hug. His right hand clung to the frame as his arm wrapped about Clint. His left enveloped Natasha and held her close, closer than he ever had as he buried his face in Natasha's hair as he kissed her head. Silent tears tracked down his face and he choked for air as he refused to sob in front of so many people.

"I can't thank you both enough for giving her back to me…"

"She's where she belongs again, with you," Natasha murmured to him as she returned the hug as best she could.

"And we're with you too, Steve," Clint finished for the both of them as he pat Steve on the back.

Steve finally let out a sob, though it sounded more like a cough as he kissed Natasha's head once again, then Clint's before they parted. It took him a few more moments to compose himself and he barely heard the applause from the rest of the gathering. He was just so glad to have a piece of his mother back, the only piece he had left besides his memories and sketches of her, along with her wedding and engagement rings and crucifix. The rest of those at the party moved away, giving him his moment with the two spies as he collected himself completely.

"And I'm with you," he replied with a grateful smile.

In that moment he almost made them an age-old sacred promise he had made with only one other person. He realized, however, it was far too soon for that. His emotions had almost gotten the better of him, and though he felt he owed them the world for this gesture, he wasn't ready to give them that promise. Maybe in a year, maybe two, who knew? Either way, Steve made a silent promise to pay them back if he could.

"We done ruining mascara, Rogers?" Natasha finally spoke up with a light smirk on her lips. "Or do you need a defibrillator to restart your old failing heart?"

"You know what, Romanoff," he answered with a smirk of his own, only to receive a cheeky raised eyebrow in return. "Buy me a drink and we'll see what happens."

"Good thing the drinks are free then," she taunted him.

Natasha twirled about with grace and made her way to the bar. She procured a bottle of stoli vodka and three shot glasses and held them easily at her sides before she looked casually over her shoulder, her smirk was in full force as she held the shot glasses up on her fingers. She looked so natural, so at ease in that moment, and Steve would remember it. That was all her, and he was glad of it, because it told him all of this was all real, that she was real.

After he placed the picture of his mother safely back in the box and put it somewhere safe amongst the pile of gifts, Steve nudged Clint and got the pair of them following her. They joined Natasha out on the balcony where she poured them each a shot. They toasted to their friendship, to quiet promises they had made each-other, and drank to their future.

Half a bottle later and a cool breeze swept across them. Natasha rubbed her arm only once before Steve slipped out of his jacket and gently draped it around her shoulders from behind. She smiled back up at him and set her hand on his while Clint smiled at the both of them as they all simply enjoyed the company of the others in the cool evening air. Before they knew it, Stark and the rest joined them on the balcony and the first firework shot into the sky. The first bang had Steve reaching for the gun that would have been at his hip, but instead he found Natasha's hand.

Her grip was sure and comforting, and with only a single look in her eyes, he could see she had been affected by it too, although not to his extent. She offered him that same thankful smile, though behind it lingered the reassuring gaze of someone who knew what it was like, who would stand by him through it, and who would ease his pain if he let her. Steve squeezed her hand in return, gentle but firm, and her smile widened just a little before they looked up to the sky as the second rocket lifted off and sent out a shower of golden sparks, and more soon joined them.

Steve smiled up at the fireworks and soon reveled at the show Stark was putting on for them to celebrate America, and to celebrate Steve himself.

 _Maybe today isn't so bad after all._


	6. Chapter 6: Testing or Teasing

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. This is a shorter chapter but it's no less important. Quite a bit of fun to be had here but also a bit of set-up for later.  
2\. As I've said before, I like to answer via PM. I make exceptions. I'm glad some of you had such strong reactions to the last chapter, especially the end of it. It means I'm doing something right. We'll hopefully get similar feels later on during later development stages and chapters.  
3\. We'll see more of the other Avengers after the next few chapters. I'm still establishing the primary friendships etc. before we dive into other group and relationship dynamics. But this story is focused mostly on the four I mentioned, along with others that will eventually come into the spotlight.  
4\. As always, let me know what you think! Reviews are the lifeblood of providing better writing and pandering!

 **Chapter Six: Testing or Teasing?**

The muffled thump of a body hitting the floor was the only sign of his attack. Another followed soon after toward the east, and as planned another would strike the north side of the facility within seconds. Swiftly he pulled the body into the darkness, hid it behind a large container before he slipped in with a key he graciously took from the corpse with a whisper "Sorry" and "thank you."

"Treating your guy awfully nice, Cap," came the expected smart remark. "He might as well have been your doorman for all that talk."

"Damn near Canadian of you," another voice quipped in his ear. "Are you sure you're from New York, Rogers?"

"My apology wasn't for him," the soldier responded quietly as he eased the door closed behind him moments after he infiltrated the base. "It was for his family for having to put up with him. Besides, even a kid from Brooklyn has manners, Romanoff."

"Yeah well, not a single one of these guys has clean hands," Clint countered casually as they heard a muffled cry from the archer's next victim as he knifed the man in the back. "So I think we can do without the pleasantries."

"I know, I've read the files," Steve answered as he found his next opponent. Swift, silent steps carried him forward and in another moment the snick of a neck being snapped, and a life being taken, gently echoed in his ears.

Steve never closed his eyes in silent prayer for another death confirmed by his hands as he had done a few times in the beginning of his exploits during the war. He had given up trying to pray for entry into heaven with everything he had done during WWII. He may not have wanted to kill anyone, but that's what he ended up doing. Sometimes you were left with no choice. Sometimes it was better to remove someone from the equation entirely than put them off to the side like a remainder. Besides, a quick death now meant no possibly slow one later, and in any case his conscience was clear. These men and women had murdered in cold blood, wiped out entire villages, raped and ravaged the helpless, they deserved no less than death.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll pray for forgiveness later," Steve told them with a light jab in his voice. "My conscience is clear taking out these killers for good."

"Oooh, not so righteous after all," Natasha teased over the line as she gave yet one more enemy a bloody necktie as she cut their throat and moved on. "You know, girls like a bad boy, Rogers. Maybe we should play up that angle with your next date."

"Aww, did Lizzy not work out?" Clint mused over the line as he snapped off one arrow and killed another enemy.

"Yeah, what's the deal Rogers? She was cute for a brunette."

"We are not discussing this right now," Steve urged with a hiss.

He wasn't quiet enough, however, his next target turned with a baton at the ready and swung. Steve dodged aside and aimed a swing, promptly destroying the man's radio before he could call for help. The guard stumbled back before he rushed again, swiping left and right as Steve dodged. He waited for the right moment and after one spin maneuvered to the man's side before he brought his fist down in a crushing blow that ended the man's life in a single hit. Steve checked for another key-card and sighed in light relief when he found one.

"All-access pass acquired," Steve informed them as he moved on from the guard and took out his shield. "Not that we'll use it knowing you two."

"Lizzy wanted to give you an all-access pass I'll bet," Natasha hummed over the line. "You should have taken her up on it, broken your cherry finally."

"Did she have a little too much fun with the Lizzy Borden rhyme on the date to turn you off or something?" Clint wondered idly. "I could talk to her about the black humor you know."

"It wasn't her humor or her forwardness," Steve sighed, clearly aware he was not escaping the side-chatter this mission. It had been three months since his birthday and both Clint and Natasha had made it a point to try and get Steve to go out and date, to live a little, perhaps without the Avengers. It was their mission to get him out in the world a bit more by whatever means necessary, it seemed. "She just wasn't the right fit."

"That's what you've said about the last ten dates isn't it?" Clint mused, only for it to be confirmed by a hum from Natasha as they heard her fighting two enemies and quickly gaining the advantage. "We've been trying to figure out your type, Steve. You really gotta give us something."

"Should we base your preferences off of Peggy Carter?" Natasha mused with a light breath as she finished disposing of her enemies.

"You know I'm not hung up on her," Steve nearly growled as he threw his shield. Three men at the end of the hall didn't know what hit them until it was too late, and they all fell to the ground dead before his shield bounced right back to his hand. Steve rushed through the hallways, picking up speed because he knew whatever Nat and Clint had done to the surveillance wouldn't last forever. "Besides, why do I even need to date?"

"You need to live a little, Rogers," Natasha said as she finally met up with him in the corridor. Clint wasn't far behind and he kept an eye on their six as they moved through the base. "Not that Clint and I don't appreciate your company, but you do need to live your own life."

"I do live my own life," he debated with them as they made their way up the stairs towards the control room.

"What, catching up on popular culture every spare moment?" Clint sniped at his friend. "That's no way to live your life, Steve. Besides, you can always make whoever becomes a part of your life a part of that effort."

"Why do you think I keep you two around?" Steve answered with a smile as he took position at a corner. He glanced around and with a single spin hurled his shield again. The two guards at the door fell like rocks and Steve retrieved his shield from the air a second later. The pair of spies managed light smiles, but he knew this conversation wasn't done.

"Don't get us wrong Steve, we love having you around," Natasha told him easily. "But you need something else in your life. You need to get out more"

"And soon," Clint added as they prepared to breach. Steve took up a crouched position with Natasha at his back, her own to his while Clint remained standing. His arrows spun briefly until he had the right arrowhead and he took aim. "We just feel you're driving yourself too hard. We know you're working through a lot of issues, and we're always glad to help you with that. Hell, this has been the best time I've ever spent at Shield since Nat and I became real friends. But you can only heal so much doing what you are now. You need to meet new people, experience new cultures."

"I'm healing in my own way," Steve argued lightly. A second later Clint loosed his arrow and the door beyond them was blasted apart. Steve kept his shield up and light debris smashed against it before the trio readied themselves. Another arrow later and a bright flash and cacophonous bang sounded through the hallway from the room beyond the exploded doorway.

"Yeah, locked up in your room for ages doing Jarvis only knows what," Clint shot back at him as they pushed forward.

Nat was the first in the room and she swept through it like a tidal-wave across an ocean beach. Four silenced gunshots and it was all over. Four bodies littered the floor, each of them with a gun in hand, or at least, near them anyway. Each of them did a cursory check of the room and the bodies before Natasha got to hacking the system.

"He won't even let me in without asking anymore," Natasha mentioned casually. "Not even Tony can get in unless you want guests. I don't think Jarvis even records video-footage anymore either."

"Jarvis respects my requests for privacy," Steve stated with a simple shrug. "That and Tony went one step too far. Besides, what I do in the privacy of my own home is my business. I do more than catch up on everything I've missed out on and train you know."

"Yeah, the boxers incident," Clint reminisced with a light grin. "The ladies at shield loved those pictures."

"I'm still getting requests to obtain more stills," Natasha put in lightly as she continued hacking the system. "You're a hot ticket, Rogers, and every woman wants to take a ride."

A few quips entered Steve's mind, a few of them surely inappropriate, and one that surprised him lightly as he watched the redhead hack the system to gain the intel they needed. He held his tongue, however, and instead opted for something else. "I'm sure, but what about you two, hmm? Why all the interest in my life when you are no better than me?"

"I've got a life," Clint answered with a wave of his hand. "Why do you think I disappear every so often and let Natasha tag along now and then?"

"And I go on plenty of dates," Natasha stated with a light smirk. "Always nice to have a cover and get things paid for by men I'll never see again."

"And that isn't my style," Steve responded easily. "Besides, I don't want to just casually date. I'm… waiting, I guess."

"For what?" Clint asked with an exasperated sigh. "What could you possibly be waiting for?"

Steve offered a light smirk, mixed with a genuine smile in his eyes. "The right partner."

The pair of spies glanced to one another. That was a vague response, and they both knew that was something a lot of people did. "Waiting for the one" and all of that. Of course, getting a nudge every now and then always helped and that's what the two of them were trying to provide Steve with. Even so, as the conversation petered out the terminal beeped as Natasha's smirk grew.

"We're in, my upload needed a little help but my hacks have gotten through," she stated with a victorious twinkle in her eye. She went over the information as quickly as she could before her eyebrow raised. "Well would you look at that. It seems that good Colonel Hector Ramirez is hosting a gallery auction in Lima for his dear friend Julio Garcia… And that the assets we're looking for should be there. This terminal has more information on the rest of Garcia's operations, but the intel and secrets he's been trading will be at that gallery, though this doesn't specify how."

"Garcia always keeps things compartmentalized," Steve muttered with some annoyance. "No-one has the big picture but him. I'm guessing this base was to supply guards and reinforcements?"

"Weaponry and transport detail too," Natasha confirmed as she began downloading the intel onto an external hard drive.

"Looks like we're going to a party," Clint said with a smile. "I just hope I'm not playing the waiter again like in Belize three years ago."

"We'll figure out arrangements later," Steve said as he watched the cameras for signs of any further incursion. No alarm had gone out yet, but it was only a matter of time. "Right now we need to get out of here. Did you two get your charges set?"

"Found a nice armory that's going to make things a bit hectic. I made sure to make it look like a rival of Garcia's is trying to move into his territory," Natasha explained before she promptly pulled the drive and turned to them. "But I did manage to get invitations sent to us. We'll be at this party next week."

"That means his security will be higher by then because of this attack," Clint offered with a shrug as they left the control room and began to stalk their way out of the facility. "We're going to have to be extra careful in Lima. You wipe the drives?"

"You know I always do," Natasha answered him with a smirk.

It was a quick and quiet exit, none of them spoke much until they were well away from the facility and making their way to the clearing they parked the quinjet in. As they piled in and prepared for take-off, she activated the detonators all over the base. Explosions were heard in the distance and not long after the night was filled with the crack of ammunition blowing up and the glow of the roaring inferno that the base had become.

"So, what about Kayla, from the workshop? I bet she could be a good fit," Natasha persisted with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes as he settled into his seat near the two spies in the cockpit for the ride home. "I think my next date is spoken for by either you or Maria if we're going to gather this intel."

***One Week Later - Lima, Peru***

"So, you're really not interested in going out on dates?" Clint asked.

He and Steve were sharing a room together at the hotel while Natasha shared with Maria, who had come in for this mission specifically. Steve had a feeling there was more going on than met the eye, but he let it go, for now. He figured if anything Maria's presence was either a good thing, or a bad thing, and while he always erred on the side of caution whenever possible, he felt her presence was a boon rather than an indicator of a rough mission.

"Seriously? This is still on your mind?" Steve chucked back at him as the pair of them continued getting ready for the auction.

"I just want to see you happy, Steve, is that too much to ask?" Clint pressed more seriously.

"I am happy, Clint," Steve insisted strongly, wondering why the hell everyone was so damn persistent on this topic. He was ready to kill it, here and now if he could. "I'm alive, Clint. I have a job that's not half bad, that I'm damn good at. I have two great friends, a hodge-podge of strong, powerful, and influential associates and neighbors who I'm beginning to consider my friends, and all the time in the world to do whatever the hell I want when I'm not working… most days. Really, Clint, I am happy."

"It's just, you have to want to share your life with someone," sighed the archer as he tied his tie. "You seriously don't want to look for them wherever you can find them?"

"God, you sound like Bucky trying to convince me to go on double-dates when both women were simply interested in him," Steve answered with a laugh as he finished his own tie and made sure Clint's was up to snuff. "Look, I appreciate the effort and the sentiment, but I'm fine, really. I like where I am right now and I'm not even sure I'm ready for that kind of relationship." Clint opened his mouth to argue and Steve cut him off quickly. "Five and a half months."

Clint stopped dead in his tracks, confusion written across his face, though realization seemed on the tip of his tongue before he gave in. "What?"

"Five and a half months, that's roughly how long I've been out of the ice; how long I've been alive and awake when I should have died nearly seventy years ago," Steve continued, throwing in a dose of a guilt trip in just to reinforce his argument. "I have a lot to catch up on, Clint, and not just in knowledge or culture. I was thrown to the wolves of the 21st century and told to live with it, no matter the hardships, the dangers, or anything else. I'm a Man Out of Time, and I lost everything I used to know and I've been fighting tooth and nail to catch up. I need to adjust, I need time to breath and get my life straight as much as possible before I even think about bringing a woman into the hurricane my life has been the past few months!"

"Alright! Alright," Clint acquiesced, knowing Natasha and Maria had heard them over the active comm Clint already had in his ear. "I get it, okay? I understand why you put it off and why you haven't even allowed yourself so much as a kiss in this century except on the cheek from Nat, or Pepper, or hell, even Maria. I get why you feel you need time, and thinking about it, I agree with you. You feel like you're not in any shape for a real relationship, even or especially a one-night stand."

"Yeah," Steve breathed with relief as he pat Clint on the shoulder. "Thanks, I know you want me to get better, but I need time, alright? Maybe after a year, or a year and a half, I'll be more open to it."

"Fair enough, I'll ask you then," Clint said before he grinned mischievously. "But you still gotta treat tonight as a night out on the town with a beautiful woman."

"That depends on just how beautiful my date is," Steve teased as the pair slipped into their jackets finally.

"Why don't you turn around and find out?"

Steve turned and had to keep his jaw from falling low. Natasha was dressed to impress yet again, a black dress that went down to her thighs and showed off her amazing legs and displayed her incredible curves. Of course, beside her was an equal vision of beauty, one he hadn't expected despite the woman herself being quite beautiful. Of course, he hardly ever saw her in anything but her cat-suit or a business suit in Shield HQ. Maria Hill wore a little black dress just like Natasha, and each shift of her body highlighted her curves as if the dress absorbed light for the sole sake of showing off the woman that wore it. Steve's gaze was trapped by both of them and the pair of female spies smirked.

"Like what you see, Captain?" Maria teased him as she sauntered up and put her hands on his chest.

"Like is not the word I would use," Steve finally managed to get out as he straightened up a little. Maria smirked up at him and backed away slightly. Natasha, of course, went the extra step and strut over to him, only to turn on the spot and show herself off more completely. "You both look…"

"Damn sexy," Clint completed for him with a mischievous grin.

"I was going to say stunning, actually," Steve admitted, causing both women to grin at him.

"While Clint's compliment is nice, yours is better, Steve," Maria stated as she picked up his comm and offered it to him. "Ready to go?"

"Always, Maria," he answered as he slipped the earbud in and tested it quickly, as the others did a moment later. "So, who's taking who?"

"You'll be my date," Maria said with a victorious grin.

"You have to pull rank for that, Maria?" Clint taunted her as Nat rolled her eyes.

"No, we played rock-paper-scissors for Steve," Natasha answered him with a smirk as she offered a put-upon delivery as she looked to Clint. "You're my consolation prize."

"Gee, way to stroke a man's ego," the archer grumbled, though he winked at Steve.

"I'm flattered you play a game over me, but I'm not a trophy so don't objectify me," he teased them right back with a grin.

"Oh, but what if I want to make you all sexy to make every woman jealous of who I'm with?" Maria jabbed lightly at him.

"Then tell them your ticket was punched on your latest ride," Steve said, making Natasha grin as she remembered the joke before he took it a step further and stood over Maria only to lean down and whisper in her ear. "Most thoroughly, several times."

The husky-voiced whisper caused a chill to run up the spy's spine, and she wasn't the only one. Natasha eyed Steve as any woman that had heard that directed her might, just as Maria was now. Maria's eyes were heavily lidded for only a moment before they brightened and she grinned. "Well, I'll hold you to that, Steve. Because we may have to fake it later."

"Lucky bastard," Clint joked, causing the entire room to grin.

"Oh don't worry Clint, I'll make sure I don't leave you with any marks this time," Natasha teased him, only to wink seductively at Steve.

Maria shook her head and while they all laughed, and Steve fought down a light blush, she made her way out. The rest followed in turn, each discreetly armed in one way or another. When they reached the limo they were driven by a shield operative, who explained various escape routes if necessary. Maria briefed them all on their objectives before they arrived at their destination. It was straightforward; discover the information and how it was being traded, make bids on the dangerous stuff if they had to, or steal it from Garcia himself. Natasha would attempt that last bit, while the rest of them would be working on accomplishing the rest of the mission, while supporting her, which was primarily Clint's job as he was her date.

As they exited the vehicle before the large hotel hosting the event, Steve sighed lightly.

"Something wrong, Steve?" Maria whispered to him.

"Just wondering why we're here if we expect Natasha to get the job done with Clint's support," he noted in a hushed whisper as if sharing gossip with her. She laughed and put on a sultry grin , playing the part of his date perfectly as they made their way in.

"Because we need to be ready for anything, and having a back-up is always a good thing," Maria noted with ease as she whispered in his ear. "Besides, Garcia may have left the information elsewhere and they've set up this auction for a reason. So, the paintings are either a cover for a secret meeting to handle the sale, or they are the sale. One way or another, we have to deal with it."

"Well you certainly know how to show me a good time," he replied a little more loudly, only to receive a light, seductive laugh from her as they played it up for the doormen. Steve handed over the invitation and they were allowed in, though the soldier disliked the way the men looked at Natasha and Maria. Sure, he was probably spellbound earlier, but these men looked at them like they existed for one reason alone.

"I certainly hope to," Maria purred in return as they made their way in.

"If you two are done flirting, let's get to work," Natasha chipped in, and Steve could almost hear her smirk. "Unless you want us to buy you ten minutes of privacy in a supply closet."

"Oh come on, we would easily need thirty," Steve responded, causing each of them to chuckle.

"Says the virgin," Clint shot back. "Do you even know what you'd do with a woman? Let alone two if you were ever so lucky?"

"I could join you and we could all find out," Natasha's seductive voice trilled over the comm, making Steve shiver, just as Maria's seductive look did.

"I'm intrigued by the offer," Maria added as she gazed at Steve. "How about one round with us ladies, hmm? What do you say Rogers?"

"I say you three will still be the death of me," he responded with a laugh as he reigned in his composure. "But we three would need an hour and we don't have that time to spare. Besides, we wouldn't want Clint to get lonely."

"An orgy huh? That's rather adventurous of you," the archer drawled. "I'm game, Cap. Just no crossed swords."

"Alright, enough," Steve finally cut them all off as the three spies smirked at him. He rolled his eyes at them, clearly aware they were either testing his composure, or teasing the hell out of him. He doubted it would end here either. "Let's see what we can find so we can do something better with our time later."

"I like that offer," Maria stated as they made their way onto the floor. "Romanoff, Barton, Garcia's on the east side of the gallery," she continued as a waiter offered her and Steve champagne, which they happily took. "Steve, let's take a look at the art. I'm sure there's some fantastic work here."

"None of it as beautiful as you," he said smoothly, playing the part of an interested, and quite successful, boyfriend.

Steve and Maria made their way over to the art with ease and grace. Steve explained a few things he actually knew about the art from all of his studies, both past and present. Maria was impressed with his knowledge, and was more than happy he was on this mission. If anyone would notice anything off about the paintings among their group, it was likely to be Steve. Even so, they played quite the couple as they went from painting to painting.

"It's not in the art itself," he whispered after a half-hour of examining some of the paintings.

"Are you sure?" Maria wondered. "We haven't seen everything."

"I would have noticed anything different by now," Steve told her confidently. "They're not fakes, the paint is right for the period, and there are no subtle additions to the paintings themselves."

"So we're left with each of the paintings is assigned intelligence and those in the know are bidding on the sly?" Maria questioned him. Steve shrugged, but his gaze was drawn back to the gallery while Maria shook her head. "Natasha, you're up."

"With pleasure," the redhead purred as she and Clint finally advanced to begin the main thrust of their operation in earnest.

"I'm going to have another look at the paintings," Steve mentioned lightly as he guided her back toward the artwork. "We may have missed something."

Maria nodded and went along with ease. She spoke lightly to him about residences she wished she had as if she already had them already. Meanwhile they listened to Natasha and Clint go through a "rough patch" and for Natasha to work her way into Garcia's good books. Maria noted Steve grow a little stiff at the conversation shift but otherwise paid attention to the job, waited for any code words, and was quite an attendant date all at once.

Steve caught all of the information swirling around him and responded with ease, even as he split his attention to the paintings one more time before his gaze shifted across one to look at another, only to pause. His stare turned back to the first painting and glanced at the bids. They were high, but not out of the realm of possibility for the art. Even so, his gaze travelled back up to what he felt was off.

"Would he be so bold…?"

Maria raised an eyebrow at Steve's soft question. "What is it?"

Steve shook his head minutely as he seemingly admired the art. But on a second look, Maria noticed it wasn't the painting that he was looking at. She followed his gaze and as soon as she realized it, Steve smiled.

"It's the frames," Steve concluded suddenly in a hushed voice. "The art is a front for the frames. The frames are the link between painting and information, and even have a fragment of it to give someone a taste."

"Really?"

"How can you tell?"

"Are you sure?"

Three voices bombarded Steve in that moment, each of them questioning the validity of his sudden claim, but his grin was firm. "I'm positive. And it's so simple… Morse code hidden among the frame design. It's subtle and it follows the design of each frame. Look for yourselves."

Maria raises a skeptical eyebrow but on closer examination she begins to see just what Steve saw. It was in the gold paint strokes in one frame, the indents of another, and the flowers of a third. She couldn't help but grin at such a successful mission, especially since this was so much more than a simple mission for them all. Clint confirmed it a moment later, and Natasha continued her pursuit of Garcia, just as planned.

"Would you look at that," Clint muttered over comms. "The old man's still got a few tricks up his sleeve."

"More than one, I'd imagine," Maria complimented the soldier, who grinned in response. "Romanoff, work the target. We'll play the field and keep this from enemy hands and get the funds back with what you can get out of Garcia."

"Oh I'd be positively delighted," Natasha answered to both Maria and Garcia as he guided her about and promised her a private tour.

Maria looked back to Steve, and gave him a bright, approving smile. "Well done, Steve. I think you've got a brilliant life ahead of you, even without a girlfriend."

"Well I have one for the night, I should treat her right, don't you think Maria?"

"Damn, that's smooth."

Maria promptly ignored Clint and admired Steve's grin at the statement. He was certainly a damn handsome man that would make anyone a great boyfriend. She knew he had his boundaries and his doubts, but any woman would be lucky to have him. Maria smiled at Steve in return and after they ensured they had certainly outbid just about everyone between the three of them, Maria enjoyed as much of the evening as she could at Steve's side, who proved a perfect date for the evening, despite Clint's jabs now and then.

Of course, having to listen to Romanoff seduce Garcia wasn't always her or Clint's favorite thing, and it looked like Steve enjoyed it even less with the occasional minute stoic looks and briefly tightened fists he displayed every so often. Still, it was a good night, and within another hour Natasha had gotten Garcia somewhere quiet, subdued him with a tranquilizer kiss, and gotten the rest of what they needed. As soon as Natasha rejoined them, and Clint "retrieved" his errant date, the four of them made their exit.

The moment they were in the limo, however, Maria couldn't help but smirk at the redhead.

"Next time he's my date," Natasha said almost immediately.

"Jealous Romanoff?" Maria teased lightly.

"Is it too much to ask for a girl to be treated out on the company dime by a gentleman?" Natasha answered with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Not for me," Maria taunted as she played up the act and set her head on Steve's shoulder. "Privileges of being Deputy Director."

"Be careful Steve, or Maria might try to seduce you with her wicked ways," Natasha warned him playfully, which he chuckled at lightly. "Either that or she'll just order you into her bed."

"Like a little Russian redhead wouldn't seduce him just the same?"

"Who says I haven't?"

"Geez, leave me out of it all why don't you."

Steve chuckled as Clint finally got a word in and broke up their little jokes. He knew it was all in good fun, and he could tell they were glad he knew they were teasing him. "So, a successful mission I'd say."

"Very," Maria began as she dug in her purse briefly. She took out a black wallet-like object and held it out to Steve. "Congratulations, Captain." Steve raised an eyebrow at her and took the wallet. The moment he opened it his eyebrows raised high as he saw what was inside. "You have been officially cleared for all active duty assignments and made a full member of SHIELD, clearance level 7, just like Romanoff and Barton."

Steve smiled lightly at the badge with his name and picture on it. It was a formality more than anything, but it was nice to have regardless. For him, it was a symbol that he was a part of something more than himself, something that had granted him a lot of stability in recent months. He was able to do the right thing with a powerful organization at his back, the best people by his side, and he hoped to accomplish a great deal among their ranks.

"Thank you, Maria."

"Don't thank me, you did it all yourself," Maria told him proudly. "Whether you had found that information or not, today was all about how you worked undercover and under pressure. You did splendidly. You earned this."

"Welcome to the club, Rogers," Natasha said with a smile.

"Drinks are on Maria," Clint announced immediately.

"Drinks are on Fury, actually," the Deputy Head announced as she pulled a bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket the limo was supplied with. "We'll debrief completely when we get back to HQ in New York. For now, let's enjoy the moment."


	7. Chapter 7: A Special Occasion

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. Sorry that this chapter was delayed. Things are picking up in real life and so my time for side projects is limited. I will say I'm going to attempt to have a chapter out once a month, and if I can manage it, possibly twice a month. This extends to all of my stories.  
2\. I've had this half-written for a while, the second half proved a little tricky to me.  
3\. As always, let me know what you think, I'm a big fan of hearing what my readers think/feel when reading my stories.

 **Chapter Seven: A Special Occasion**

Natasha shook her head in amusement as she exited the elevator. The Avengers, or rather, Tony, Pepper and their checkbook, were going all out in preparing for her birthday. They were going to try and surprise her until she told them the last time someone tried, Clint in fact, she had shot him on reflex. So instead they decided to get the glitz and glam going in the main den so she could have a posh, upscale birthday for the first time. She appreciated the effort, though she would have preferred being somewhere else, somewhere remote and full of life, for her birthday.

There was one person missing in all the preparations, however. Steve Rogers had been locked up in his room again doing Jarvis only knew what, if even the AI knew. They had asked him if he recorded anything about Steve's floor, and the AI had informed them that he only recorded the Super Soldier's vitals to ensure he was in the best of health. Of course, it was that scan which allowed Natasha to help Steve on rough nights, though Clint sometimes reached him before she could. Otherwise, no other scan was allowed in the room by Steve's order.

She hesitated at his door. He didn't allow anyone in, not even Tony or Pepper could override Jarvis' commands to keep people out. Apparently the AI had taken a liking to the Captain, even after Steve had threatened everyone in the building, especially Tony, that he would tear out every bit of advanced technology and remodel his floor himself if it kept his privacy. Tony had, quite reluctantly, allowed it, though now it proved an issue, especially for snooping on the intrepid Captain.

Natasha knocked gently on the door, aware he would hear it no matter how hard she knocked, or that Jarvis would inform him. When no response and no voice reached her ear, she tested the handle and found it unlocked. The spy raised a tentative eyebrow at that. The door was always locked, a habit from Steve's days growing up in Brooklyn, so to find it unlocked was definitely new.

"Beginning to trust us, Rogers?" Her murmured words fell into silence, as no-one came searching for her.

Natasha glanced around the den and kitchen to find the usual signs of Steve living there and being home: Books were on the coffee and side tables next to the couch, immaculate counter tops, one clean mug, plate, and set of silverware laid out after being cleaned, and Steve's shield leaned up against the couch, all indicated he was home. She glanced down at the table next to the coat rack and saw his jar full of change and the basket where he always set his keys and wallet. Everything was there, which only made her wonder more why he was down here and not upstairs with everyone else.

"Rogers?"

Still she received no reply. Silent steps carried her deeper into the home and she searched for any sign he wasn't here. He could be in the training rooms downstairs, but she doubted that. Steve tended to take it easy and relax on holidays and birthdays, along with helping get everything set up like he had for Labor Day a month or so ago. Natasha sauntered through the apartment with ease. He wasn't in the guest room painting the walls, nor the home theater everyone absolutely adored having movie night in at least once a month when Tony visited from his mansion in Malibu.

Natasha was just about to go to his bedroom when something caught her eye in the last room on Steve's floor; his art studio. She eased the door further open and her gaze locked on what had caught her attention: three packages wrapped in plain brown paper and tied tight with twine bore a letter with her name on it. Excitement and curiosity seeped into her veins and Natasha bit her lip in thought. The packages were charming, very 40's in their appearance of a gift for someone you cared about. It wouldn't hurt to take a peek, would it?

Just as Natasha stepped toward the packages the rest of the room came into full relief, and her breath escaped her. Vivid images of war sat on various easels around the room and the natural light of the large windows put everything on display. It all seemed so real! The detail was incredible and as she looked around Natasha felt her heart hammer in her chest. It was battle after battle, explosions and dead bodies, soldiers fighting or resting in World War II gear on one wall, before she was enraptured by the sights she witnessed on the other. Images of the Avengers fighting the Chitauri in New York were hung on the walls, set on the easels, or leaned gently against one another all along the floor against the wall.

Natasha turned and her breath caught once more. There they were, portraits and pictures she thought nobody would ever see. In fact, nobody but Steve and now herself had ever seen them. They were gorgeous and heartbreaking all at once. If she didn't know better, she would say these were photographs rather than paintings, so smooth and delicate were Steve's strokes and details.

"Beautiful…"

"Thank you."

Natasha froze, and her gaze immediately locked onto Steve who was only a few steps to her left. He leaned in the doorway in a tight white tank-top and jeans stained by paint in various spots, his hands drying in a washcloth as he gazed intently at her. She felt exposed to him, only to realize that Steve himself felt exposed to her. Of course he would, she had just invaded part of his sanctuary away from the rest of the world.

Natasha hesitated only a moment as she glanced from him, to the paintings, to what drew her into the room in the first place. Her lips quirked into a wry grin. "Really Rogers, brown paper and twine? Isn't that a bit old-fashioned? There's plenty of wrapping paper to choose from these days, old man."

"Why buy art someone else is going to tear apart anyway?" Steve answered with a tentative smile of his own. "Besides, I nearly went blind looking at all that busy wrapping paper on my birthday, and the selection at the store was even worse. You'd think they would come with seizure warnings."

Natasha's lips quirked into a smirk shortly before she snorted at his humor. "You're not wrong about that. It would make for a horrible disguise. But you know, Rogers, a girl likes to get pretty things, even if she is going to tear them apart." She trails a finger along the twine of the top package idly as if she could cut it with one of her immaculate, red nails. "And it looks like a monkey did the wrapping."

"Well according to various theories of evolution we came from apes and monkeys, so I guess that side came out to play for a bit," Steve shot back at her without missing a beat. The two smirked at one another before Steve continued. "Besides, with all of the glamour going on upstairs to host a ritzy birthday party for you, I figured a bit of simplicity wouldn't hurt."

"Simple is a word I'd use to describe you," she mused sarcastically.

"Ahh, there's the pot I was waiting for," Steve jabbed at her. "I'm kettle, nice to meet you."

Natasha finally rolled her eyes. The train of jokes the pair could come up with might be endless unless she started making references, and then he would only try to get her back later by finding something obscure to make her and the rest of them feel left out and like they were behind. She had to hand it to Steve, he knew how to get payback when he wanted to, even playfully. But for all of that playfulness, Natasha's gaze was drawn back to the paintings on the walls before her gaze met Steve's once again.

"I'm sorry for intruding, but a certain something caught my eye and I couldn't resist," Natasha said with a light gesture to the presents again before she tentatively looked around again. "Finding this was not what I had in mind when I came here to get you."

"Well you always did like getting in people's heads," Steve teased her as he tucked the washcloth slightly down the front of his jeans and looked at her solemnly. "Now you're in mine… or at least, a significant part of it."

"Steve, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," he cut her off gently as he pushed off the doorway and approached her easily. "I had the restrictions on your access through Jarvis revoked for today, and maybe in the future if you keep all of this a secret. I know you and Clint have alerts for my nightmares and Jarvis will always allow you in for that, but I'd rather like to keep this private."

"Of course!" Natasha responded instantly as she took his hand and rubbed her thumb along the back to ease any built up tensions in Steve, and a little in herself as she felt him squeeze her hand in return. "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. I promise."

"Good," Steve said with a light smile. A light-bulb seemed to go on in his head and with a gesture for her to wait he vanished from the room in a whirl of dry paint covered clothes. He rummaged around the house briefly before he returned to her side, two thin, plain, leather-bound books in hand. Natasha recognized them instantly and before she knew it, he was offering them to her.

"Go on, look through them."

Natasha's eyes widened at the offer. He had just offered to let her look through his sketchbooks, the ones from just before and after his icy stasis, something he never did, not for anyone.

"Steve, you don't need to do this."

"No, I don't need to," he told her as he took her hand and gently opened it and promptly gave her the sketchbooks with a gentle but final tucking of them into her hand. "But I want to. You and Clint have always respected my privacy and never looked inside either of them. I told you I could never stop Bucky from looking through my sketchbooks, but that was mostly because I let him, because I wanted him to know, because I trusted him with my privacy, my thoughts and feelings and secrets. You and Clint have always let me have my privacy, even ensured it when given the chance. So, I'm letting you in a little more as part of my birthday gift. You and Clint, when you're ready to hand them off to him before they're given back."

"Steve…" she barely breathed as she looked from the sketchbooks in her hands up to his brilliant blue eyes, very lightly flecked with green. He was giving her a part of himself, something he only let those closest to him see. "Thank you. I know this means a lot to you…"

"I trust you."

Whatever Natasha was about to say caught in her throat. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched and her heartbeat quickened as her gaze met Steve's own. He was sincere, honest, and showing her a part of himself he hadn't shown anyone in the 21st century yet. Hell, this room and her even being in it was a testament to his trust that he hadn't forced her out yet, but his sketchpad? That almost felt far more personal than this room. Before she could sink into those thoughts further, before she could be seen to be caught off-guard and in something of a daze her body and mind kicked in with training and she regained control of herself in the next heartbeat.

"Thank you… I trust you too…" It was odd, how accurate that statement was to her. Natasha did trust Steve in a lot of ways; primarily to be himself, to be a good man, to do the right thing when it mattered, but also with some of her own secrets. He had read her file, he knew her in a way very few people did, and that kind of trust now seemed to be going both ways.

 _And maybe we'll be able to trust one another even more, perhaps completely, if we even can._

"And by the way," Natasha began as she held the sketchbooks close to her chest with one arm and gestured lightly to his paintings with the other. "Your work really is beautiful. I know Tony set the room up because he was aware of your art school record and expected New York City skylines but this… this is far more gorgeous."

"Or tragic, destructive, depressing-" Steve rattled off without missing a beat as he slowly began to adopt a scowl.

"But it's real, and its true, and that's what makes it beautiful no matter what tragedy or hardship it represents," Natasha cut him off quickly as she squeezed his hand to draw his attention back to her. "I wouldn't say it's all that destructive or depressing either. You paint these to cope with and remember what you have been through, Steve. You translate your memory, your thoughts and emotions, your feelings into all of this and it's… well, it's beautiful."

As Natasha spoke, she guided him to one of the walls that depicted his past and his future both and drew his attention to the paintings there. While there were battles depicted on either side of an invisible line he had drawn between them, there were also scenes of everyday life, of laughter, of relaxing however you could wherever you could on both sides.

"I wish I could do something equally as beautiful as bring my thoughts to life like this."

Steve remained silent all throughout, so caught up in the whirlwind of reason and emotion that Natasha had become. She was passionate about this, and although she hadn't seen every painting, she felt something about every piece, and it showed in the way she approached them and in how she approached him about them. It was a sight to behold, and Steve was reminded why he decided to trust her, why he let her in, why he let her become a part of his life, and he a part of hers in return.

"I think you can," he finally told her as he watched her closely. "You just don't let yourself."

Natasha knew he meant ballet the moment the words left his mouth. She had let him read her file and ask her questions, and one of the ones she had answered almost fondly was about dancing, the only thing she really loved about her training from the Red Room. Maybe he was right, maybe ballet did come with a lot of baggage, a lot of pain and tormenting memories from her past, but it was pure, in its own way, before it had been corrupted. She could make it pure again if given the chance…

A chance Steve seemed intent on giving her it seemed.

"Maybe we'll both get to see the beauty in what we can do, someday."

Her response brought a smile to his lips, and Natasha couldn't help the one that grew on her own as she watched him. She had helped him realize the beauty of his work, to an extent, and she hoped someday she could see the beauty and grace in ballet again. She would have to approach that later, but for now, she looked at the presents that laid nearby, almost forgotten in the intensity of their moment together.

"So can I take a quick peek?"

Steve snorted and smirked before he clearly put himself between her and her presents. "Not a chance."

Natasha pouted cutely, moments away from putting her womanly wiles to good use, if only to get her presents faster, when they were interrupted.

"Apologies, Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers, but it seems Ms. Potts is searching for you both to get you both ready for the evening."

The pair of Shield agents sighed and looked up to the ceiling, as if Jarvis was a man that just flew around constantly overhead. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"You're welcome, Captain," the AI responded. "Agent Romanoff, should I alert Ms. Potts to your current position?"

"No, tell her I'll meet her in my room."

"I'll see it done."

Natasha felt a mote of relief that Pepper wouldn't know she was on Steve's floor, but the idea seemed to strike a chord with Steve.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Steve reached down his shirt and for a brief moment Natasha wondered what he was doing before he took out his dog tags. He had long taken his parents' wedding rings, his mother's engagement rings and crucifix off the chain and nestled them neatly in a velvet case in his bedside drawer. It was the safest place he had, besides with him. He looked his dog tags over briefly before he glanced at Natasha then back at the ceiling.

"Can you track my dog tags?"

"Yes sir, the composite of them allows me to discern them from other metal in the building."

"Then whenever Natasha has my dog tags, she's allowed full access to my floor."

"Of course, sir. I'll program that into your preferences immediately."

"Thank you, Jarvis."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Steve, both quizzical and amused at this particular turn of events. "Moving a bit fast giving me a key to your place, aren't you Rogers?"

"Just accept the gesture, alright?"

She smirked at him, the quirk of her lips quick and amused. She nodded quietly to him as he raised the necklace over her head and gently pulled her hair out of it as he laid it around her neck and upon her chest.

"Keep them safe for me today, will ya?"

"You got it," she told him lightly, her smirk still firmly in place. "But you've made it less fun for me to take them now."

Steve chuckled. Natasha had been swiping his dog tags ever since they met. Well, rather she had been swiping them before that, considering she had them when they first met, but it didn't begin again until they moved into the tower. She would wear his dog tags whenever she pleased and only return them when he caught her, normally when she appeared in his room to help him deal with nightmares. Even so, it had been a bit fun, seeing if she had taken his dog tags each day and trying to get them off her now and then.

"Did I really?"

Natasha tilted her head, the indelible smirk on her lips undeniable as Steve answered with one of his own. "Well I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

"I guess we will."

They chuckled lightly at that before Natasha made to pick up her gifts. The moment she tried was the moment Steve gingerly swiped them from her and held them far out of her reach. She pouted at him again, to no effect other than a charming wink from him. She rolled her eyes but allowed him this brief moment of victory before she left so they could both get ready for her party. If anything, she would win in the end anyways, come that night.

Natasha wore one of her best dresses for the occasion of her birthday, something she was more than happy to do under the circumstances. The black dress clung to her curves comfortably. It showed off her features yet remained mostly modest in how it offered a tempered view of her cleavage. Not too much and not too little, nor did it hamper a view of her legs, as a slit up one side of the dress displayed her well-toned long legs whenever she took another step. This moment, this dress, was to glorify her and her birthday, to allow her to revel in another year alive, another year free to choose who she wanted to be, what she wanted to do, and who she wanted to spend time with.

Tony and Pepper really had gone all out for the party. Natasha felt like she was at some high-profile party for the rich and powerful, which in either case could be true depending on where you looked for her and her bank accounts. Even so, she was happy that for once all the glitz and glam that surrounded her was meant to celebrate her, and not just the setting of another mission.

Dinner had been rich in taste and conversation. During much of it everyone had told stories of how they met her, or anecdotes of their time spent in her company. It was revealing in a sense, but nothing she couldn't let others know. Thor mentioned their nights drinking or their sparring sessions, Tony their first meeting and the reveal of her identity, with many astute comments from Pepper, along with her own view of such occasions. Bruce had simply shared how he met her, which was when she retrieved him for the Avengers.

Clint had enjoyed retelling a story of a time he had witnessed her fail to land gracefully in their shared apartment when she had stubbed her toe, swore profusely in seven languages and subsequently flung herself over the couch in the process. That had earned him a rather large dose of vodka slipped into his drink, courtesy of her own deft Russian hands. Maria managed to tell a story of one of their missions, particularly in the Caribbean where they had gone clubbing against orders after accomplishing their task, which everyone, especially Tony much to Pepper's exasperated amusement, had begged for more details on. They never got them, because Maria and Natasha merely shared smirks and pressed Coulson, May and Nick to share their own stories, each as fun and thrilling as the last.

Steve, of course, had shared their own first meeting, even going so far as to pleasingly note that she currently wore his dog tags even now instead of a necklace. She had debated wearing a different necklace, but after his touching and open gestures earlier that day, she decided it would be nice to wear his dog tags proudly, especially since she had silver sapphire earrings to match the polished and shiny titanium chain, one that he had gotten to replace the old one, that held the steel dog tags. Still, she rather enjoyed reminiscing, even if now that dinner was done, she found herself greeted by a different old friend.

Natasha stood upon the edge of the dance floor, contemplating it in its emptiness, in this quiet loneliness that she shared with it away from the others in that moment. It was a peaceful sort of loneliness, an understanding of herself and the dancefloor, of their connection almost, but she was gladdened by the wooden floor's quiet company, and full of sorrow that it should exist without a partner to share its splendor and true life with. It wasn't until there was a hand held before her that her thoughts were broken and the loneliness she felt melted away by the soft words that escaped the owner of such a comforting hand.

"May I have this dance, Miss Romanoff?"

Natasha could hardly believe the words left Steve's mouth. Any time they had needed to dance for a mission, she had always asked him, or Maria had. Not once had he ever asked anyone, and she felt that it was, perhaps, the first time he had asked anyone to share the dance floor with him since his time asleep. That he was dressed in a very nice dark blue three-piece suit did wonders for her ego, and for his own form. He looked good enough to eat in such fine strong lines that accented his tall and broad frame. Her eyes didn't widen in surprise at his question, however. Instead her lips quirked in response, not into the all-knowing smirk so accustomed to its place there, but with a genuine sort of smile she had felt more often the longer she spent in his company.

"It would be my pleasure."

They took to the dance floor, the first to step foot on it that evening as the music began to play a new song. It was soft and alluring, just like her hands, a trap for the senses if ever there were any. Yet Steve fell into the trap without hesitation and embraced it as if he knew it would never harm him; as if _she_ would never harm him.

 _Maybe he's right._

The thought was so quick that it vanished from Natasha's mind in the next second as Steve eased them both into the gentle embrace of two friends enjoying and living in the moment. A hum of content begged to be unleashed, but she held it back. Instead her smile widened lightly as he initiated the first step, and she could tell he had improved.

"I thought you didn't dance because you were afraid of breaking a hip, fossil," she taunted him lightly as he led her across the dance floor in slow and gentle steps.

"I haven't been afraid to dance in some time," Steve answered her confidently as he turned them about. "Not with you, at least."

Her brow quirked at that, her curiosity piqued by such a statement as she eased into his embrace, certain he knew what he was doing. She should always be certain, in fact; because she taught him.

"Is that so?" Natasha wondered idly, only to receive a slight shrug and a light smirk from Steve. She answered him with one of her own and hummed in amusement at his attempt to appear as a mysterious and confident dancer among the couples that now joined them, someone to stand out above all others. Of course, he had accomplished just that, and she couldn't fault him for it, not when it felt so great and right to have someone so amazing, so naturally good, in her arms as she did.

"I don't scare easy," he responded with his damned charming grin. "Especially not from you."

"You say that now, Soldier, but just you wait. I'll have you running away screaming in terror someday."

"Only if you're at my side, and it's laughter in the face of everything that wants to stop us instead."

His response was so quick it almost caught her off-guard, but she wasn't to be stopped, even if she hadn't expected such a response. Instead she offered a light chuckle, pleased he was catching up, pleased that she was finding in him an equal of a sort altogether similar and vastly different to herself.

"Well I'll be glad for the company then, just like now." Her smiled at that, and in turned it caused her lips to quirk in a shadow of a grin as well before she continued. "So why ask me to dance, hmm?"

"Well I do owe you one," Steve told her gently. "After all, you danced with me on my birthday, it's only right that I repay the favor."

"So that's all this is, huh? Returning the favor?" Natasha pressed him. A small pout formed on her lips, and only a portion of it was an act, as she rather enjoyed dancing with the old-fashioned gentleman in her arms.

"Well, not only returning a favor," Steve admitted with the smallest hint of pink in his cheeks. "I did want to dance with you, and now seemed like my best chance."

"I'm flattered, Steve," she replied with some sincerity, though it was slightly washed away by the emergence of a smirk. "But be careful where you put those hands. We wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea."

"Never, Natasha."

His solemn, genuine reply was itself almost a joke, but she knew it was honest. He cared about her and her image, no matter what others thought, including herself. She offered a genial smile in response, touched by his meaning, his very being, as they continued to dance, not just through the rest of the song, but through the next one as well until he escorted her off the floor to get a drink.

The rest of the evening played out quite well, especially because Natasha got her pick of dance partners from everyone in the room. Each of the men offered her a dance, and she gladly took them for a turn on the dance floor. Her dances with Nick and Coulson felt like she was dancing with father figures. The sweet innocence and protectiveness of such rhythmic sways and steps brought her a small measure of peace among the growing sense of belonging she felt amongst them all. That sense had begun long ago with their capture, and subsequent rescue, of her from her former path.

Starting with Clint.

He had been so good to her, and even now he remained one of the most important people in her life. Clint was her brother, her best friend, her rock at times when she needed one most, and she could never repay him for that. Her dance with him made her long for the farm, for what had in a sense become her own home. They smiled and laughed at little jokes between themselves, glad to be in one another's company on a day like this, despite not being where they both knew they wanted to be.

What came next was something Natasha had greatly looked forward to; unwrapping presents. She received quite a few sets of clothes, some books and a couple of gadgets, the last of which she got primarily from Tony. Pepper had given her an entire day spending spree with Stark Resources and VIP access, along with a beautiful leather jacket that she instantly cherished. In all she was really quite pleased with everyone's gifts, menial or otherwise, though her gaze constantly travelled to two people, Steve with his pile of gifts wrapped in brown, and Clint who no doubt had more than just his own gift to give her.

Clint stepped forward first, a small box in his hands. Everyone crept in close at the sight, curious as to what it would be. Natasha herself was also curious, and upon seeing the velvet box, wondered just what he was up to. Rumors had circulated, even among the Avengers, about them being some sort of couple, though that's all they were. Steve knew the truth, that they were best friends, that he had brought her to SHIELD and the side of good, mostly anyways. Either way, she both enjoyed and was a little wary of what this gift had in store, though she needn't have been when she saw what lay with in.

"You're such a sap, Clint."

Though they were the first words out of her mouth, they were soft, not all in her usual witty or sarcastic manner. It was a simple necklace with an arrow charm, a friendship necklace if she had ever seen one, and one she greatly appreciated, since they sometimes were split up for separate missions, and it helped to keep a part of him close.

"Only if it's maple so I can be made into delicious syrup," he fired right back at her, which made the redhead snort in amusement as she gently caressed the necklace. "Want me to put it on you?" Natasha nodded and let Clint slide it gently around her neck and latch it closed. The necklace wasn't nearly as long as Steve's dog tags, so it fit just right at the tip of her sternum. Clint smiled at the sight of her in it before his expression flipped into a smirk. "Get you a few more necklaces and you'll just be carrying bling around all the time, huh?"

"Quiet, you," she said with a light punch to his shoulder, though both grinned broadly. Natasha gently hugged her best and oldest friend for a few moments, earning a few smatterings of applause from the group and a smiling no from Steve. "Best for last, Rogers?"

"Well you know, someone has to outshine and deflate all of the big egos in the room."

Stark balked lightly at that, though Pepper's light chuckling made the man pout next to her as everyone else laughed along. Thor merely shrugged the comment off, and Fury just rolled his one good eye in sarcastic amusement. Eventually the room settled down and Natasha nearly vibrated in her eat to see what Steve no doubt had painted for her.

She looked at the card first, and was surprised by the simple message.

 _Happy Birthday, Natasha. Maybe this will show you the beauty you truly are._

She looked up at Steve curiously, though his expression gave little away, save that he was flooded with nervous anticipation. He wanted her to like his gifts, to enjoy them as much as possible and perhaps even cherish them. With everything he had given her so far today, his trust especially, she had little doubt he would continue to impress.

She gently unfolded the brown paper until the first painting, as she rightly guessed, was revealed. Her breath hitched lightly at the sight and her eyes widened. It was a small painting, all things considered, but it was potent beyond belief. There she was, dressed in casual garb with a bear in her hands as she gave it to a young girl at Coney Island. Her expression was soft, understanding and gentle of all things, expressing her own joy at bringing just a little light and excitement to a young girl's day.

It was so different to how she usually saw herself, but there it was. An indelible reminder of what she could do, of who she could be was laid right before her in full relief. The level of detail was amazing, and her hand gently caressed the fine layers of paint, tracing her own face and the pigtails of the little girl.

"Coney Island," she breathed fondly. "How did you manage this?"

Steve sheepishly shrugged at her gaze, inquisitive and filled with awe as she stared at him. "An eidetic memory comes in handy, especially with painting a moment like this. I just thought it would be good to remind you of a moment like this…"

She smiled brightly at him and gently set the first painting aside. The next was more to her style, as it was a perfect image of her in a red dress, a bottle of vodka hung gently in one hand with three shot glasses held up in the other as she looked over her shoulder, her gaze piercing, seductive, cunning and amused all at once. Beautiful and deadly, lovely and sultry, mischievous and kind, all of it was thrown at her as she examined the contours of her smirk and the expression in her eyes. The bar counter set behind her was done in perfect detail, just as her own form was created without a single alteration or exaggeration. Natasha reminded herself to wear dresses like that more often, as it certainly showed off her best assets in the most perfect light.

"Something on your mind, Rogers?" she teased him lightly as she showed the picture off a little.

"Drinking with you never gets boring," Steve immediately replied as he seemed to gather himself completely.

"Uh-huh," she said disbelievingly with a smirk.

Everyone in the room whistled low as they witnessed the painting. Clint nudged Steve and made a few risqué gestures only to be hit by Natasha and told to knock it off before he set it nearby for everyone else to look at. Even the first one drew a lot of attention, especially from those that had never witnessed anything like that from Natasha. Tony shook his head in disbelief upon seeing the one of her with the little girl. He was about to say something when Pepper shushed him as Natasha grabbed the last painting.

This one amazed her just as much as the last two in how well it captured a moment. There she crouched beneath a blade, a city under invasion behind her with Chitauri storming the streets and explosions burning the very air. A Glock 26 was in her left hand, a Chitauri spear in her right, held out along her leg. She smirked at the viewer, though her eyes were set with fierce determination, a desire to protect, to fight, to save those that needed saving, and raring for a fight. The deep v of her catsuit barely drew the eyes in comparison to her face and steady gaze. As Natasha examined the painting, she noticed a message hidden in the curls of her hair, written in an elegant flow with a paint brush that took great skill to hide such a thing and make it look so natural in her hair all at once.

 _On va voir._

A wide grin spread across Natasha's lips at the sight. Steve had captured all sides of her. Relaxed and caring, beautiful and seductive, fierce, protective, challenging, strong, all of it could be found in each of these paintings and she wouldn't have it any other way. She gently caressed the carefully hidden message and she saw Steve grin in response before her gaze firmly locked on him.

"You're quite the artist, Rogers."

"Thank you," he offered easily with a pleasant smile. "You're quite the muse."

Had she been a lesser woman, she might have blushed. Instead she offered him a pleasant, happy smile, a genuine one that she knew he longed to see, and one she longed to have crease her lips more often. Tony nearly spit up some of his drink, and a few of the other guests raised an eyebrow at the statement. Before anyone could say another word, Clint chimed in.

"So, did you draw her like one of your French girls yet?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, and Steve raised an eyebrow for a moment before he got the reference a hint of blush crept up his cheeks. "No, I haven't, and you damn well know that."

"I don't know," the archer continued with a lingering mischievous grin that echoed his chiding tone. "You two have disappeared on your own quite a bit. Who's to say what happened after you left us one at a time, hmm? Maybe you met up in secret for something to happen."

"He hasn't drawn me like one of his French girls yet, Clint," Natasha put an end to the debate with a rather amused grin. "Because if he had I don't think he'd be able to contain himself."

Steve most certainly blushed at that and shook his head. "Alright, I'm done with this conversation. You all enjoy your perverted 21st century ways."

The entire group began to laugh and gently tease the old-fashioned gentleman before they moved on. Many praised his gifts, and Natasha kept them close, refusing to let them out of her sight for the duration of the evening if she could help it. She didn't trust Stark's sticky fingers, or those of her colleagues who were dead set on teasing or having some art for themselves. Steve was even inundated with requests for more art, to show some off or make some for the others, but he merely gave them a kind and knowing grin, one Natasha returned with a smirk, as she knew he had paintings, portraits, pictures, and sketches of all of them in numerous forms and fashions.

The rest of the night was most certainly memorable. It felt good to be the center of attention among those that cared, instead of those that just wanted to look what was beneath the skirt, or kill her. It felt right, being here among them, and the more time she spent doing this, she was sure she would be able to feel at home, normal, maybe even like she truly belonged somewhere instead of generally being a nomad.

As the night progressed her friends and coworkers petered off one by one. Pepper took Tony to their floor once he was getting a little too tipsy for his own good. Bruce had fallen asleep on the sofa and was carried away by Thor when the immortal had had enough. Everyone else dispersed slowly, each wishing Natasha a happy birthday, glad to have attended a glamorous party for her.

Everyone, that was, except for Steve, who intended to clean up, and Clint, who was sitting with her on the sofa at this point.

"Jarvis, activate my personal privacy protocols, please," Natasha announced, an order that the AI soon acknowledged aloud before Natasha's gaze returned to Clint. "So, have you made me wait long enough yet?"

Clint smirked lightly at her question and tilted his head. "I don't know, you think you're ready for that?"

"Only if you are," she responded with a very subtle gesture towards Steve.

Clint caught it, of course, and after a few moments quiet contemplation, he nodded. With a light whistle he deactivated the lock on one of his arrows and it dropped a sack of packages right into his lap. Natasha rolled her eyes at the showy display of secrecy, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Over in the kitchen, Steve had raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to watch for only a moment before he returned to cleaning.

"Steve, you can come and watch if you like," Natasha told him as she accepted the gifts from Clint. "Leave the cleaning to the staff and enjoy the night, old timer."

"I'm used to picking up after myself," he answered her with a shrug. He dried his hands in a dishtowel before he set it aside and made his way over to join them. "But you're right, not all of it's my mess and I may as well leave it for those who get paid for it."

"Mostly robots, but you're not wrong," Clint chuckled out.

Steve sat across from them, curious that Clint had more gifts for Natasha, secret ones at that. What he saw, however, wasn't quite what he expected. They were pictures of kids, a family, and a few hand-drawn ones in marker, crayon, and colored pencil as well. Steve raised an eyebrow and his mind went into overdrive before he noticed that Natasha wasn't in the main family pictures, only in individual ones of her and two kids, a boy and a girl, and of Clint and a woman he seemed rather close to.

"Lila's getting good at art," Natasha said with a happy smile.

"Well she wanted to impress her Auntie Nat," Clint answered her, grinning widely. "And Cooper would have sent his little league trophy along, but Laura and I said that stays at home with him. So we took a picture instead."

The more Clint explained the gifts, the more Steve came to realize just who they were from, and who those people actually were. Natasha was caught up in the private, happy moment, glad to receive these special gifts from a family she considered her own. She was, after all, Auntie Nat, and she wished she could have shared her birthday with them, despite loving the evening as much as she had. Even so, she caught Steve watching and the look of sudden realization flit across his features before he smiled.

"You have a family, Clint?"

"Yeah, Laura, my wife, my son Cooper, and my daughter Lila," Clint explained most fondly as he looked to Steve. "I keep them a secret, so nobody knows about them and so that my enemies don't go after them. Fury helped me set everything up. Eventually I told Nat a few months after I recruited her for SHIELD. My family… they've wanted to meet you ever since I told them about you, especially after I told them I considered bringing you home after what happened in New York."

Steve's eyes widened at the thought. "You… want me to meet them?"

Natasha looked over at Clint and he glanced at her in return. Only a subtle nod was shared before Clint smiled brightly at the soldier across from the pair of assassins. "I have for a while. When you really accepted my friendship, I wanted to tell you about them on your birthday, but I changed my mind last minute because it seemed a bit too much too fast. Now though, after six-odd months, I'd be happy to."

Steve was stunned, but Clint wasn't quite finished. "Besides, Tasha told me what you did earlier. If you can trust me with your sketchbooks, your most private thoughts and art, then I can trust you with a bit of myself as well."

"And I agree with him," Natasha added softly as she gestured to the many papers splayed out on her lap and the coffee table. "Keeping this a secret when you were becoming so close to us was… surprisingly hard. I was accepted by Clint and his family and I'm the godmother of both Lila and Cooper. They call me Auntie Nat, and since I'm part of the family, I had a say too. Both Clint and I want you to meet the family, and they want to meet you as well."

Steve nodded slowly, is stunned expression slowly fading away as he leaned back and shook his head. A slightly huffed laugh escaped him before he spoke. "You do know you're supposed to receive gifts on your birthday and not give them, right?"

"This is less a gift, and more a notification of future torture," Clint teased him lightly as he leaned forward in his seat. "They want to meet you for Christmas, and you'll need a green sweater for Christmas cards."

"Christmas cards?" Steve blinked at that while Natasha and Clint smirked. "You make those?"

"Well only a few people get them. Laura's family, Fury, Coulson, May, Maria, that's about it," Clint told him. "But we still like to make them. It helps us feel like any other normal family."

Steve nodded along with the explanation. All the while, a gentle smile grew upon his lips. "I'm happy for you," he said softly. "And I'd be happy to meet them."

"No take-backs now Rogers," Natasha warned him with a smirk. "Once you accept, you're stuck for good. Hell, I bet Laura already has a guest bedroom ready and is preparing to add you to the family roster."

"Wouldn't doubt it," Clint chimed in, grinning all the while. "Laura always asks me when I'm going to tell you and now I can finally tell her to prepare for six at Christmas dinner. Lila has been dying to meet you so you can sketch and draw with her, and paint now that I've seen your work," Clint said with a gesture to Steve's gift for Natasha. "Cooper won't shut up either. He's grown up on comics of you and Coulson only encouraged it after we discovered you in the ice."

"Jealous much, Clint?" Natasha teased her friend.

"A dad likes his kids to look up to him! Fucking noble soldiers taking all of my idol worship," Clint grumbled, though Steve could tell it was all in good fun, as the archer winked subtly at him.

"Well I'd be happy to come," Steve replied in full confidence with a light sigh. "It will be nice to get away from everything, maybe to feel normal for a while."

"Glad to hear it," Natasha and Clint said together. They laughed along with one another and Steve joined in moments later before Natasha gathered up all of the pictures and knickknacks the kids and Laura had sent her. "Well, now that that's over with, would you mind helping me take all of my gifts to my floor? After all, you wouldn't want to spoil my birthday, would you?"

The pair of men groaned aloud, only to receive light taps from Natasha. They were joking of course, so the moment she nudged them both they laughed and made to help her. After all, it was the best thing to do for such a special occasion.


	8. Chapter 8: Christmas at the Bartons

**Dreams and Wonders**

Disclaimer: I'm just playing in the MCU sandbox and make no money from this. Please enjoy the story and feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the only way to get better at this. I'm writing this story for my own enjoyment.

Content Warning: This story will contain mentions of and scenes containing but not limited to swearing, violence, smut and other Adult Content.

Author's Note: 1. Finally a chapter! Grad school is kicking my ass but I finally managed to find the inspiration to finish this.

slice of life and fluff, but also some development for our intrepid captain. We'll be seeing more avengers interaction soon!

3\. As always, let me know what you think.

 **Chapter Eight: Christmas at the Barton's**

While SHIELD was the best and most advanced intelligence agency in the United States, if not the world by some accounts, it was because they had the best people. Of course, those people had lives of their own, families to attend to and SHIELD did its best to accommodate all of their agents as much as possible. Day care centers with highly qualified, and subsequently military trained, teachers and caretakers were provided at or near most facilities. Holiday, medical, maternity, and other forms of leave were provided as needed and desired, within certain limits of course. What kept their agents happy and secure made SHIELD happy and secure, and on top of the proverbial food chain.

Needless to say, getting leave for Strike Force Delta, the top squad in all of shield, was a fairly simple, if exhausting affair at times. They worked their asses off throughout most of December, barely settling down from one mission before they were sent on another, so their load would be light when they got back. Even so, the wild ride of the last month was finally over for Clint, Natasha and Steve.

All that was left was calming a certain super-soldier on their flight to an undisclosed location.

"You're sure I won't be a bother?"

"Yes, Steve, we're sure," Clint said for what felt like the hundredth time this month. "We'll be happy to have you. Laura's got the room ready and more than enough food stocked up."

"I don't want to burden you. I could do some chores while I'm there," the super-soldier said suddenly, as he had many times before. "I'll pay my keep."

"Steve, this isn't the great depression, remember? This isn't a work for food-and-board arrangement," Natasha cut in quickly, rather exasperated, amusedly so, with the soldier's antics over the past few weeks. "We're both guests in Clint's family home and you're going to shut up and like it, no chores necessary. I'm sure you'll make up any perceived debt with how much you'll be entertaining the kids."

Steve went quiet after that for a few moments, and Clint breathed a sigh of relief as Natasha snickered. The silence extended for a few moments and the pair of assassins in the cockpit grew almost concerned before they glanced back to see Steve deep in thought.

"What is it?"

Steve looked up at Clint's question and shook his head. "It's nothing. It's just been a while since I've been around kids for an extended period. I'm not sure if they'll like me."

"They'll adore you, Steve. Just relax, alright? This is what the holidays are all about; relaxing with family and living for the moment."

While there was more to Steve's response than he let on, Clint didn't push. In fact, he figured he could guess Steve's thoughts but let it slide. It wasn't his business one way or another, but he hoped his friend found some resolve while at his home. A notification went off and Clint began their final descent. It wasn't long at all for them to begin hovering over a farm and begin landing.

Between the barn and the house two kids were building a snowman before they saw the quinjet. Immediately they dropped what snow was in their hands and waved to the fighter, hopping and rushing toward it as it came in lower and lower until it finally landed. Clint finished locking down the jet before he rushed to grab his things. He slung them over his back and opened the rear hatch to see the kids, his children, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

Of course, it wouldn't be a welcome home without two snowballs streaking toward him the moment they could see him. Clint laughed as he got hit but rushed to see his kids and gently tackled them into the snow. Their jubilant cries echoed through the air and neither Natasha or Steve could resist a smile as they watched the Christmas reunion.

"I see where he gets it," Steve teased with a grin at Natasha.

"I think they get it more from him than the other way around," she said with a smirk.

At their voices, however, the two kids slowed their assault on their dad and looked up. Excitement burst in their eyes as they saw their adopted aunt, before curiosity took hold at the sight of the newcomer. Awe entered the eyes of the young boy, while wonder lit up the smile across the girl's features.

"Is that who I think it is, daddy?" the little girl wondered bashfully.

"Would you look at that I forgot to introduce you. I must be losing my manners," Clint joked lightly as he stood up with his kids. "Lila, Cooper, this is my friend Steve Rogers. Steve, this is my daughter Lila, and my son Cooper. My wife is probably somewhere in the house watching for us."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Steve said somewhat formally.

As he approached most of the family with his bag and shield slung over one shoulder, the two kids stood at attention and saluted Steve in much the same way Clint did, using a C as the salute for his name in sign language. It was Clint's way of saying "Cap" in sign, which was his favorite nickname for Steve. In return, Steve saluted them with each of the first letters of their names and was answered with beaming smiles. Before another word could be said, Lila rushed over to Natasha.

"Auntie Nat!"

"Hey you! Oh my gosh you're getting so big," the redhead responded happily as she lifted Lila up for a hug and propped her on her hip to chat with her as they walked to the house.

Aunt and niece got into a conversation while Cooper still looked a little awe-struck and awkward. Steve noticed quickly and with a smile knelt in front of Cooper and offered him his shield. "Hey, would you mind putting this in the guest room your mother has for me?"

"Yes sir!"

The boy snapped off another salute and reverently took the shield. A broad grin split his features as he began to lead them to the house behind Natasha and Lila. Clint rolled his eyes at the sight, though his wide smile gave away how happy he was with how well Steve seemed to get along with his kids at first. It was a great first meeting all things considered, and the awkwardness would fade, as would the awe, which Clint knew would help Steve settle in.

"You've got a beautiful family Clint," Steve said as they walked together.

"It only gets more gorgeous when you see my wife."

Steve smiled happily for his friend and clapped him on the shoulder as they followed Cooper and the quinjet closed up, sealing itself from use for the time being. "I'll bet it does. I'm happy for you."

"Maybe you'll find your own someday to make you just as happy, huh?"

Clint almost regretted the remark the moment he said it, but Steve's half-smile and the wan bitterness in his eyes vanished almost as soon as they came when his eyes fell on Cooper, Lila and Natasha.

"Maybe I'll just take yours."

"Ohh, you plan on stealing my wife?"

"You can keep your best girl, I'll just steal the kids."

"You're never taking Lila from me, Rogers!" Natasha barked over her shoulder at him with a smirk as Lila burrowed into her neck with a giggle.

"I'll go with you, Captain!" Cooper said with a lively look.

"Betrayed by my own son, and it's nearly Christmas!" Clint cried in faux despair, making Cooper laugh. Clint smiled a second later and ruffled up his son's hair when he and Steve caught up with him completely. "I wouldn't let you go, Coop, not in a million years."

"I know, Dad. Same here. You're the best dad ever." Clint beamed at his son's praise before Cooper smirked and looked to Steve. "But you're the best Agent SHIELD could ever get."

"Oh yeah?" Steve smiled as Clint pouted, while Natasha smirked at them when she and Lila slowed down to walk with them. "And who told you that?"

"Grandpa Phil."

Steve chuckled and almost laughed when he heard Clint mutter something along the lines of "brown-nosing fuck" before he coughed to hide his language from his son. Natasha clearly heard as well, as she began to chuckle and speak with Lila again. Cooper on the other hand began asking a ton of questions about Steve; what he did for fun, his favorite food, and all manner of things.

It didn't take them long to reach the house and when they entered Steve couldn't help but embrace the comfort the place exuded. It was a home, a true home where life, and love, and family thrived against all the odds. The smell of hot cocoa permeated the air and the well-kept house welcomed them with open arms.

"Mom! Come see who's here!"

Lila's shout carried into the house as everyone took off their winter gear. Getting a good look at them finally, Steve could tell they were Clint's kids. Cooper's brown hair was the only difference it seemed, as the boy was almost a copy of his father with a slightly angled jaw and lean build. Lilah had a more honey color to her hair and hazel eyes, Steve assumed, given by her mother, with a rounder jaw and kind childish features.

Not a moment after they finished preparing to enter the house, a woman came in with a soft, gentle smile on her face. Her eyes landed on Clint and they brightened, solely focused on her husband in a look of love. The same look, Steve noticed, was in Clint's eyes as he saw his wife, and despite the pain he felt seeing something he couldn't have, he was happy for his friend to have found something so pure and amazing.

Clint quickly approached his wife and took her into his arms. Wrapped in a strong hug, she seemed to deflate of all stress and worry and found herself happy and loved beyond all else. The two shared a brief, innocent and loving kiss and whispered to each-other for the briefest of moments. Smiles laid upon their faces even as Clint turned back to Steve, Natasha and the kids.

"Steve, this is my wife Laura," Clint introduced them finally. "Laura this is Steve."

"It's an honor and a pleasure to meet you ma'am," Steve said with a gentle grin.

"Oh no, none of that, Steve," Laura demanded almost instantly, her voice kind and playful. "I don't need to feel any older and around here you can use our names without issue. Besides, I feel like I already know you with how much Clint talks about you. Natasha talks about you a lot too when she's here."

Steve nodded in acceptance and looked from one teammate to the next. They weren't ashamed of their secret being outed. In fact, they seemed proud of him, and proud to talk about him too. But being a little shit like he always had been with Bucky, he couldn't resist at least one comment.

"Oh really?" he began with a large wry grin. "So which one proclaimed their love for me? Because if it's Clint, you may have a fight on your hands."

Laura's initial giggle turned into uproarious laughter moments later as Clint blinked in amused shock and Natasha pouted playfully to play along. Laura's breath had barely been caught before she approached him, her arms held out as if to hug him. "Oh I really am going to like you, Steve." When she reached him, the soldier didn't hesitate and welcomed the unconditionally joyful and welcoming hug that she offered him. When she had hooked her chin over his shoulder she finally gave him an answer. "They're both adorably, madly in love with you. But you're going to have to settle for the redhead, the archer is mine."

Steve struggled to hold in the chuckle that bubbled in his chest and throat, but managed as she pulled away and smiled at him. He offered an exaggerated pout to Laura and said, "Well I guess that's fair. Though melting her cold heart will be a challenge."

All of the adults chuckled and Steve offered a wink at Natasha, to which she smiled genuinely and rolled her eyes. It wasn't long before all of the adults were settling into their rooms before being dragged out to play with the kids. They stayed out there and played for some time, even having a snowball fight. Eventually Laura decided to head inside, and Steve, being the ever helpful guest, went with her to start working on dinner.

It was a routine the entire family and guests fell into. They would play inside and outside or relax throughout the day and watch christmas movies, which helped Steve cross movies off of his list. As the days went buy, Steve realized in full what his gift to Clint and his family would be. He sketched whenever he could, even painted with Lila when the occasion arose and encouraged her to keep going. Natasha even joined them in the effort, which brought a huge smile to the young girl's face. Steve even had a few moments with Cooper, taught him how to throw the shield at least a little bit, but mostly he, Clint and Cooper spent time fixing up things around the house, taking care of the farm, or enjoying some outdoor activities.

Clint finally got his hunting trip with Steve, which the two were very proud of when they brought home two turkeys and a buck. Laura looked on the edge of rebellion at the sight of cleaning it all, but Steve quickly assuaged her concerns and said he would take care of the deer, as he was used to cleaning and prepping one during his army days. It gave him time to think, and time to appreciate what Clint had here, what Natasha had here, and to be a part of it himself in some way. It was only a few days later when Laura and Steve were inside prepping for dinner that a topic that had waged a war in his mind ever since coming to this sanctuary away from the problems of the rest of the world came forth.

"How do you do it, Laura?"

Laura blinked in surprised as she continued to prep the vegetables. "Do what, Steve?"

The tall man hesitated, his blue eyes dark with contemplation as he cut up meat for the stir fry they were making. "How do you live at home without Clint around, knowing that one day someone might show up with a flag and what's left of his possessions?"

She stilled at the mere mention of it, and with the horrific realization of what he had just done in mind, Steve moved to apologize before she stopped him with but a single raised hand and a firm look.

"Clint's flag isn't the only one I'm afraid of receiving, Steve," she told him with a hard swallow as she seemed to force down so much of the emotion that came with such a loaded question. Even then, the tremble in her lip and the steeled look in her eye told Steve all he needed to about her feelings. "I'm afraid Clint will come home with Natasha's flag and possessions one day and I'll lose my sister, or the other way around and I'll lose my husband…"

Laura's voice shook and had neared a hushed whisper as her eyes watered with anxiety and fear, as if she had already experienced such a horrific event. "And I dread the fact it might happen to both of them and I'll be taking a flag from Maria, Coulson, Nick…" she paused and her eyes locked on him. "Or even you… Steve. I dread the day I receive any of their flags or hear that they're gone."

"But how do you live with that?" he asked, his voice almost a croak as his empathy for her situation got the better of him.

At this Laura smiled, and her eyes didn't seem as hard or cold as moments before. "I fill my heart with love and know in my heart that Clint will never break it, that he will always come back to me and the kids, and Natasha too" she explained to him as her own words granted her courage and strength. "I keep the kids happy and tell them stories about their dad and auntie, make them proud of them, and pray my beliefs won't be crushed by the reality of my worries. I won't lie, Steve, it's tough, but that's the life of a soldier's family."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," Laura cut him off with an understanding smile. "I imagine it's hard for you in this time and place without your family and these sorts of questions might crop up. But we keep pushing forward Steve, and it's all we can do some days. But what about you? Have you ever had to do what I do? Or left someone at home when you went off to war?"

"That's something I never had, Laura," Steve told her with a sigh. "My family… Bucky… Was already being deployed when I was finally able to slither my way into the army through Project: Rebirth. I never had anyone to go home to because Bucky was always right there with me when I finally got overseas after my dancing monkey days with the USO tours…"

A ghost of a smile passed over his lips before it was crushed by memories that were still so fresh in his mind. "But every day that I was on those tours, I was afraid the senator's aids or the senator himself would come up to me with a chaplain and a flag notifying me of Bucky's death. I chose to join the army because it was the right thing to do, because I wanted to keep others safe from bullies, because that's what I saw the Axis as."

The soldier took a breath, and his eyes cast themselves downward as the reality returned to him with brutal honesty. It was odd to confess this to her, but it was freeing as well because she could understand him in this moment, or at least he hoped she could. He would have admitted this to the others, but Laura had a way of getting him to open up, and he wasn't sure he wanted Clint or Natasha to know right then. So he pressed on without regret.

"But I also know that a part of me chased Bucky into the war because I couldn't bear losing him, because I couldn't bear not being there to protect him when he had always protected me… And another part of me reminds myself I joined because I didn't want the slow death my doctors predicted for me, because they told me I wouldn't live past 27 before the serum changed everything," he admitted with some shame.

"I preferred the idea of being shot or blown to hell in an instant rather than wasting away in bed, and I still do. It's terrible but… Bucky and I…" Steve choked up at this but refused to let any tears fall as he continued. "We had prepared for a life where he would one day live without me… But I had never prepared for a life without him… The war changed all of that and it's what got me here..."

"And now that you don't have to be at war," Laura spoke up after a short pause to let Steve compose himself. "Have you thought of doing anything else?"

Steve shook his head. "I never wanted war to become the only thing I knew, yet it happened anyway… But yeah, I've wanted to become an artist full time and let my art speak for me… But then I think about Natasha and Clint, Maria and Coulson, Nick and the other Avengers, and I know I want to be there to protect them, and I can't do that sitting on the sidelines with my sketchbook or a canvas. So I debate with myself constantly what I want to do and some days it's truly a struggle that tears me apart."

Silence reigned in the kitchen, then, so long they both had renewed chopping meat and vegetables until it seemed Laura had found the words she wanted to say. "Then you have my blessing no matter what you decide, Steve. But if you do run with Clint and Nat, if you do fight at their side, bring them back home for me, you hear me?"

The soldier couldn't help the smile that creased his lips as he met her gaze. "I promise, their home is here and I'll never let them be kept from it, or all of you, if I can help it."

Laura offered him a small but still brilliant smile. She almost glowed with the happiness of receiving that promise before she advanced on him after she wiped her hands. She gently took his head between her hands and pulled him down so she could press her lips in a kiss upon his forehead. In that moment, Steve sealed that promise to her in his mind, made it a part of him as much as any other oath he had made and slowly stood straight up again. They smiled at one another and Laura again rounded the kitchen island to work on dinner.

They had just begun again when she spoke up. "Oh, and Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Bring yourself home too, alright? This is your home too now."

Steve practically jammed the knife in his hand halfway through the wood as her words struck home. When he looked up at Laura, all he caught was a gentle smile upon her lips as she wiped away a tear.

"Damn onions, always make me cry."

Steve trembled, though to anyone else he would appear perfectly still. His home had died when it had fallen off the train into the frozen abyss of a winter driven river. Home had not been a place in years, it had always been a person. That person, however, was long dead and Steve had thought there was no hope he would ever find it again, because everyone he had loved had either died or was worse than dead as it was. So for Laura to offer her home as his, to give him a place in this world he could call his own?

 _One day, I'm going to find a way to repay you, no matter the cost._

Almost as if she could read his mind, Laura's smile brightened even more… or maybe it was because of the laughter of Natasha, Clint and the kids as they came running back to the house. In either case, a tear fell down Steve's cheek and he wiped it away on the sleeve of his sweater. If Laura new him, and he knew she did based on their interactions thus far, then she would respect his wish to keep this moment of vulnerability and gratefulness quiet.

"Yeah, those onions will get you…"

The pair were smiling brightly and any sign of tears had vanished by the time Clint, Natasha and the kids rushed in to the smell of steve preparing a marinate. Dinner later was a jovial affair and Steve was more relaxed here than he had been even in Avengers' tower. He laughed and joked and opened up with anecdotes about his mother and Bucky and all the rest even more in the next days than he ever had before. Clint and Natasha noted the change but neither Laura nor Steve said a word about it. Instead, Steve revelled in this feeling and watched Clint and Natasha in this most natural environment for them and was glad to share it. This secret place, this sanctuary that they would all die to protect was theirs, and they never wanted to leave.

Christmas morning was unlike anything Steve really remembered. Of course, he had never been mauled by children to wake up to see what Santa had brought them, and what their other gifts were. Unwilling to let them get away with waking him up, Steve quickly hoisted one up under each arm and carried them each over a shoulder as Clint, Laura and Natasha stood in the hall, their robes on and smirks or smiles on each of their faces.

"I think Santa sent my gift straight to my room but I'm not sure I want 'em," he joked with a grin that the kids couldn't see. "Think I should put them outside? Maybe Santa takes gifts back?"

"Don't you dare, Captain Rogers!" Cooper yelled as he struggled to pull himself up and back over Steve's shoulder, as the soldier just shrugged and ended the boy's progress to hang him upside down once again. "I want to see my presents!"  
"Yeah, me too!"

Steve laughed along with the others before he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, fiiiine… Last one down stairs has to pick a present last!"

With the ease only his dexterity and strength could manage, Steve plopped the two children gently on the ground and dashed over the railing with a wave to the kids before he flipped and landed on the bottom floor. Natasha, not to be outdone, quickly followed only to force him to catch her. With the redhead in his arms, Steve let out a laugh as she smirked at him before she flipped out of his grasp and pushed him onto his back on the stairs. Outdone by the russian woman once again, Steve chuckled before he felt the kids tumble over him in their father's arms. All the while, Laura laughed at the top of the steps and looked at Steve with a radiant grin when his own amusement had calmed enough for him to look at her.

"Go on, Steve, I'm going to get hot chocolate going."

"Yes, ma'am!'

His cheeky salute to her as he stood up was answered with a middle finger for his audacity to use "ma'am" once again. He smirked at her before he followed the kids and bemoaned his loss to the kids, their dad and their surrogate aunt, which the kids happily and playfully rubbed in. To say being on this side of a Christmas morning had never occurred to the old-fashioned soldier was an understatement, but it was a small wonder, a small miracle, that he cherished the opportunity to be a part of.

Eventually they all began trading gifts, and although none were quite on par with the meaningful picture of his mother and the album for all of his memories Natasha and Clint had gotten him before, he appreciated each one. Instead, Steve received a number of clothes and art supplies, along with collections of movies he had yet to see, including the entire Disney Collection, which he cherished a great deal for his own reasons. The kids, Laura, Natasha and Clint had been very pleased with his small, genuine smile at the gift of movies he had hoped so long ago he might have been a part of making. Even if he couldn't do that now, he was no less touched by the gesture.

Steve, of course, was not to be outdone. He presented Clint with a covered canvas, much as he had natasha on her birthday, and the archer looked at him curiously.

"It's for your whole family," Steve said with a smile. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure we'll love it, Steve."

Clint's words were prophetic, because the entire family, minus Natasha, worked on opening the gift with care until Laura and the children stopped in shock. Clint had seen some of Steve's work before, and easily recognized it, but the sometimes stoic or sarcastic archer actually stared at the canvas with a watery gaze before he turned it to Steve.

"When-"

"The entire time I've been here," he said with a light grin. "Chipped away at it bit by bit, even at night to make sure it was done," Steve explained as the family looked at the portrait of them enjoying themselves in the den, playing games with one another. "I wanted to do something special for your family, even made some small sketches of Laura and the kids for you."

At that, laura found the envelope full of sketches attached to the back and showed clint. A tear streaked down the archer's cheek and he let out a short laugh and nodded happily as the kids almost worshipped the painting, taking all do care as they admired it.

"Thank you, Steve," Clint almost choked out.

"We love it," Laura said instantly as she got up and hugged the soldier.

Cooper and Lila were of the same opinion, and Clint instantly made room on the fireplace mantel and gently propped the painting up. The family stood in front of it, smiling as Natasha barely hid her own smile at the series of events. She nudged Steve in the side and he offered her a grin in return, one she happily returned as they watched the family take in the moment.

"You know, you really ought to open a gallery," Natasha suggested with a grin.

Steve blinked in surprise, curious and knocked off balance at the thought. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I second that," Clint chimed in as he slipped the sketches into his wallet with loving care.

"I'd like to see it if you actually do it," Laura piped up with an excited look in her eyes, as the kids turned around with bright eyes of wonder as they listened to the adults. "Oh Steve, you just have to open a gallery! If all of your work is anything like this painting then it would be amazing and it's something you could do when you're ready, when you have some spare time."

The tall blonde pondered on that idea, tossed it about in his head like he had so many baseballs in his hands decades before. He could open a gallery… Most of his work back at the tower was already finished, but he had no idea what to make of any sort of reaction to it all, especially considering some of the content.

"I'll think about it," he mulled over aloud. "But if I do go through with it, you're all getting a sneak preview, since I don't think premier night would be safe."

"It's a deal," Laura said with a clap of her hands. "Now, who wants refills?"

The cheer of the kids, and even the adults, brightened the room again and reminded them all why they were there. Even as Natasha and Clint began to chase the kids through the house toward the kitchen, Steve shook his head with a light laugh and thought over everything that had happened, and everything to come. Christmas with the Bartons truly was exactly the thing he needed to be able to look toward the future with a small, hopeful smile.


End file.
